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On the Trail of Deserters 

A Phenomenal Capture 
By 

Captain i^obert #olbtf)itiaite Carter 

U. S. ARMY 




WASHINGTON. D. C. 
GIBSON BROS., PRINTERS. 1920 






Gift 
Author 



.■\? 



< On The Trail of Deserters, 



Iv. 



T 



HE year of 1871 had been so-full of incidents and far 
reaching results for the Fourth Cavalry and its new 
Colonel, Ranald S. Mackenzie, that it is somewhat 
difficult to go back into the dim vistas of that period and 
select the one incident, or absorbing event which would be 
either of greatest magnitude or afford the most thrilling 
interest — 

This capture of ten deserters, however, under circum- 
stances of more than ordinary importance, since it is be- 
lieved to be the record capture ever made in the Military 
Department of Texas, or, perhaps for that matter, of any 
Military Department in the United States — came about as 
closely in touch with the writer's life as almost any other 
experience he ever had while serving as an officer of that 
regiment — including, as it did, terrible exposure, and una- 
voidable hardships and privations — 

Like all of the other Cavalry regiments in our Army, 
which were then doing about three fourths of all the active, 
effective work — the work that disables or kills — in the sub- 
jugation of the savage tribes in the United States, driving 
them into Indian reservations, and rendering it possible for 
the frontier border to be settled, and civilization to be ad- 
vanced to a point where it could feel safe from raids and 
bloody incursions, the Fourth U. S. Cavalry, notwithstand- 
ing its high morale and almost perfect state of discipline — 
had its share of desertions — 

Was Mackenzie a "Martinet" 

Mackenzie was not a West Point "martinet", as that term 
is generally understood in our Army — but, from four 
wounds he had received, three in the Civil War, and one that 
year in the campaign against Quan-ah Parker, the Una-ha- 
da Comanche Chief — and almost criminal neglect of his 



On the Trail of Deserters 



own health, in his intensity of nature and purpose in prose- 
cuting these arduous Indian campaigns — he had become 
more or less irritable, irascible, exacting — sometimes erratic, 
and frequently explosive — 

This much may be said, however, it is certain that not- 
withstanding his physical condition, and his mental tempera- 
ment resulting therefrom, he never sought to inflict an 
injury or punishment upon anybody unnecessarily — never 
became a petty or malicious persecutor, hounding a man 
into his grave — and when it became evident to him as well 
as to others that he had done any of his officers or men an 
act of injustice, nobody could have been more open, free and 
frank in his disavowal of that act, or quicker to apologize 
and render all the reparation possible in his power — This 
applied to any and all down to the last Second Lieutenant 
and private soldier in the regiment — 

One man never knows another so well, even intimately — 
as when he is thrown closely in contact with or lives and 
sleeps and eats with him — The writer had done all with 
Mackenzie during a greater part of this period of 1871 — 
having been his Post Adjutant twice — during Gen. Sher- 
man's inspection in May, at the time of the massacre of Salt 
Creek Prairie, and prior to our Expedition of that year, and 
his Field Adjutant on his entire campaign in his abortive at- 
tempt to strike Kicking Bird's band of Ki-o-was before he 
could be stampeded into the Fort Sill Reservation — from 
May 1st until Oct. 3 — I had got to know him very well — 

Causes for Desertion 

Both officers and men had been under a terrific high- 
keyed pressure — a very great mental and physical strain, 
almost to the breaking point ; were tired and dispirited be- 
cause the results and the hard work performed, had not 
justified their expectations and because they could not then 
see any immediate relief from the performance of such 
exacting duty — The pace had been a little too fast even for 



On the Trail of Deserters 



the Fourth Cavalry — Much of the spirit and enthusiasm 
for such unremunerative work was at a very low ebb — 
While it had not yet approached a complete discouragement, 
it was a condition of supreme disgust and contempt at the 
methods employed — They felt that with the Government at 
Washington nullifying and rendering most of their hard 
labor abortive, that success in those long, weary and ex- 
tremely exhausting Indian campaigns was not so much de- 
pendent upon their absolute loyalty to duty and perfect will- 
ingness to sacrifice themselves when necessary in achieving 
results, as upon the paralyzing acts and influence of the 
"Indian Ring" in Washington and the ever changing politi- 
cal cesspools of a politically ridden country — They wanted 
to see the tangible results or fruits of such terribly hard 
service and to feel that such hardships, privations and sacri- 
fices as they had experienced, had not been in vain or wasted 
by a gang of cold blooded, unscrupulous plunderers and 
grafters remote from the scene of these border activities. 
We have but recently passed through a similar experience 
with the same class — in fact are doing it now. Like "death 
and Taxes," we have them with us always, especially in time 
of wars — It is then the vultures abound — It is then we have 
the jelly-fish, spineless slackers, the pussy-foot pacifists — 
conscientious objectors, chicken hearted shirkers — and — 
"let George do it" fighters — coming down to the secret 
renegades — traitors, and Bolshevist anarchists and bomb 
throwers — They have always been the curse of this Nation 
— the natural result, — as a rule — of the "Melting Pot" that 
does not melt — breeding a lot of mongrel curs and hybrids 
that should no longer be a part of our American life. It is 
feared they will always be with us — 

Thus they reasoned — and the propaganda poison spread. 
These were some of the contributing, but not all of the real 
causes that led to what soon became almost an epidemic of 
desertions in the regiment — The last snow storm in which 
they had floundered and wallowed into Fort Richardson, 
seemed to have destroyed the last atom of patriotic ardor 



On the Trail of Deserters 



and martial enthusiasm among even some of the best of our 
Indian scrappers — ^The loss of Quan-ah Parker's village in 
the snow, sleet and hail of that black, awful night on the 
solitary plateau of the "Staked Plains", when the entire 
command came so near perishing, and the swiftly moving 
mass of fleeing panic-stricken Indians was "so near, and yet 
so far" — had taken nearly all of the gimp, snap, and live- 
wire spirit out of our hitherto bold Fourth Cavalry war- 
riors — Following this — the terrible monotony of the life — 
without amusements or recreations of any kind — no ath- 
letics or competitions; no libraries — infrequent mails; no 
hunting except a few men selected on account of their being 
expert shots (no ammunition then being issued by the Gov- 
ernment for that purpose) ; no theaters or concerts; nothing 
but the dreary monotonous grind of guard and police duty — 
detached service, and the rather questionable pleasure they 
got out of some saloons and gambling hells which generally 
landed them "broke" and subjects for the guard house and 
disciplinary measures and more forfeiture of pay, hard labor 
or other punishment — These were the causes for the deser- 
tion epidemic. During this period of unrest and discontent, 
however, on account of the conditons described, there were 
few courts martial, nearly all corrective or disciplinary 
measures being applied by the Troop Commanders through 
the First Sergeants, under proper restrictions or limitations 
by the Colonel — "Knock downs" and "drag outs" were not 
infrequent, and at no extra expense to the Government — 
Sometimes the victim of an unfortunate "jag" was got 
under control by a 24 hours sojourn in the "orderly room", 
a "dip" in a water hole near by, the "boozer" being thrown 
in a few times "by order", or, if he became too obstreperous, 
abusive or insubordinate — a "sweat box" — a "30 pound log 
on a ring", or a "spread eagle on the spare wheel of a cais- 
son" was resorted to to fully control the habitual drunk, 
shirker or malingerer, all with the knowledge of and under 
the direct or indirect supervision of the Commanding 
Officer— 



On the Trail of Deserters 



On the 29th of November it was reported that ten (10) 
men had deserted from one troop ("B"), and Mackenzie, 
thoroughly aroused now by the frequency of these wholesale 
desertions — took immediate and decisive action. 

Rock-Ribbed Orders vs. Elastic Verbal Instructions 

About dark on this day Mackenzie sent in great haste 
for Lawton and the writer and told us the situation; that 
he was going to send us out on this special trip in pursuit 
of deserters and to get ready as soon as possible. He 
would have a written order for us in a few minutes — We 
were generously informed that while it was not our turn on 
the detached duty roster for this service, yet — so and so 
was too sick — another had a cold — still a third was ineffi- 
cient, and would never get results — and a fourth could not 
stand the gaff of a "Norther" — etc., etc. — all so comforting 
and soothing (?) — We were, therefore, "It" — We were to 
report to him in 30 minutes. We were each to select any 
Corporal in the regiment to accompany us — A black, and 
ominous "Norther" was brewing and it was then beginning 
to be bitter cold — We reported within the time given with 
our Corporals — and the following official order was placed 
in the writer's hands. 

Headquarters Fort Richardson, Texas, 

November 29th, 1871. 

SPECIAL ORDERS NO. 280 

{Extract) 



V. Second Lieutenant R. G. Carter, 4th Cavalry, with a de- 
tail consisting of two non commissioned officers and eleven 
privates of that Regiment, mounted, fully armed and equipped, 
furnished one day's rations and sixty rounds of ammunition per 
man, will proceed at Retreat this day, in pursuit of deserters 



On the Trail of Deserters 



under the verbal instructions of the Commanding Officer of 
the Post. The A. C. S. will turn over to Lieut Carter, the 
sum of ($250) Two hundred and fifty dollars, subsistence 
funds, for the purchase of subsistence for the men of his 
detail — The A. A. Q. M. will turn over to Lieut Carter, the 
sum of ($300) three hundred dollars, Quartermaster's funds, • 
for the purchase of forage for the public animals. 

By Command of Colonel Ranald S. Mackenzie, 

(Signed) W. J. KylE, 
1st Lieut. 11th Infantry, Post Adjutant. 
Lieut R. G. Carter, 4th Cavalry — 

The money was turned over to us by the Post Adjutant — 
Lawton receiving the same amount — and then turning to 
both of us — Mackenzie said : "In addition to those orders, 
I wish to give you special instructions for your guidance in 
this most important duty you are going on — I shall not ex- 
pect you to follow them implicitly but to be guided by cir- 
cumstances arising at the moment — and which, being on the 
spot, you will know how to deal with better than anybody 
else — and to use your best judgment and wisest discretion 
at all times — You are to keep one Corporal with you all the 
time, taking him into your confidence so far as you may 
deem it necessary for your success. You are to go in differ- 
ent directions — Lawton is to go on the Decatur road — 
while you (the writer) are to follow the Weather ford 
road — You are to cover all of the intermediate settlements 
near and beyond those towns, seeking at all times the assist- 
ance of the Civil authorities and holding out to them the 
prospect of the Government reward ($30) for the apprehen- 
sion and delivery to you of each deserter — The towns should 
only be entered at night and then with a deputy sheriff or 
other civil officer — It should be systematically and thor- 
oughly searched — Should you find that these deserters have 
headed for the railroads, and you have traced them that 
far — and it becomes necessary, drop your detachment, leav- 
ing it in charge of one non-commissioned officer, while you 
take the other with you, continuing the pursuit, even if it 
leads to "Galveston and New Orleans, or, even to New 



On the Traiiv of Deserters 



York" — and then, hesitating somewhat — he added — pitch- 
ing his voice to a high key, and as was his habit — snapping 
the stumps of his amputated fingers — "I don't want either 
of you to come back until you have accomplished results — / 
want these men brought back and punished — Obey the Civil 
Laws and if they are not violated and you stick to the spirit 
of your instructions, I will cover all of your acts with a 
'blanket order.' " The writer suggested that Lawton and 
himself, and the Corporals whom we might select to remain 
with us wherever we went — should go in citizens clothes, 
since, if we had to "cut loose" from our detachments, we 
would be able to co-operate more effectively with the Civil 
Authorities when we might be acting as detectives about the 
large towns, especially at night — To this Mackenzie readily 
agreed, saying that it was an excellent and practical sugges- 
tion — He included this idea in his instructions — The writer 
had been at an immense conscript and dralt rendezvous 
during the Civil War — among the worst classes of "substi- 
tutes" and "bounty jumpers" — ever known in the history of 
our Army — They were deserters from every Army and 
Navy of the world; had come over here for the huge boun- 
ties paid under our vicious conscript laws — only to desert — 
re-enlist and repeat the method again and again — We fre- 
quently mingled with them in citizens clothes — got their 
plans, and either thwarted them or caused their arrest and 
punishment; On one occasion the execution of two for 
desertion. 

We thought that these instructions were very lucid and 
certainly were very wide sweeping — enough so to satisfy 
the most exacting soldier — It looked like a winter's job had 
been cut out for us — and secretly in our hearts — we wished 
the trail might lead through the places he named. Visions 
of Galveston, New Orleans and "Little Old New York" 
loomed up very large — and alluring, for neither of us had 
visited those attractive "burgs" and elysiums of pleasure — 
for a long time — but the conditonal, or "//"' clause in this in- 
terview caused us to dubiously shake our heads — with feel- 



10 On the Trail of Deserters 



ing of hope, it is true, but not of elation — and not unmixed 
with some dread and apprehension for the future, hardly 
knowing what was before us in this, to us, most novel fron- 
tier adventure — It was now nearly dark, and wishing Mac- 
kenzie "Good Night", and stepping out into the gloom of 
approaching night to face the drizzle of a gathering 
"Norther," we (Lawton and the writer) shook hands and 
separated, both busily chewing the cud of reflection, in- 
wardly cursing our reputed Civil War efficiency that had 
led to our selection for such "beastly" service, and indus- 
triously trying to digest and assimilate these most elaborate 
and elastic, carte blanche instructions the "Old Man" had 
given us — While we felt that in a measure, we were free 
lances — all freebooters, with nobody to say "Yea or Nay", 
our own Commanding officers with no one to disturb our 
independence of thought and action (and with such limited 
means of communication at that period and under such con- 
ditions, one can easily see that no such limitations could be 
imposed as are placed to-day), we also realized the terrible 
responsibility so suddenly thrust upon us, and the great 
risks we ran in dealing with determined men wrought up to 
such a desperate pitch as they were by alleged acts of in- 
justice — and hard and fast conditions under which they 
were serving — All this aided, as we felt these men might be, 
by other equally bad gun-men — all over and down through 
that country wherever we might trail them. 

I had selected Corporal John B. Charlton of Troop "F" 
for my civilian companion — I considered him one of the best 
non-commissioned officers in the regiment — While he had a 
free, rollicking, reckless, dare devil spirit about him — he 
was easily controlled, and perfectly amenable to discipline — 
He was a very handsome, intelligent, active, energetic man 
of about 24 years of age — and was on his second 5 years 
enlistment — his first having been in the Fifth Artillery — 
He was fully six feet — spare, sinewy, straight as an arrow — 
an athlete — one of the best riders, shots and hunters, and 
all round soldiers in the regiment — He had a straight nose — 



On the Traii^ of Deserters U 



strong chin and steel-blue eyes, the glint of which, when he 
was aroused — looked dangerous when squinting down the 
sights of our old Spencer Carbines— He reminded me of 
that free, rollicksome— "devil-may-care" d'Artagnan, one 
of the "Three Musketeers"— He probably had a past like 
many other enlisted men who entered the regular army after 
the Civil War— If so, for obvious reasons, we never pried 
into that past. He entered into the spirit and novelty of 
this new adventure with commendable zeal, energy, spirit 
and enthusiasm— I felt that I knew my man perfectly, and 
that, under all circumstances, he would prove absolutely 
loyal to all duty and be faithful to whatever trust I reposed 
in him— 

We were all well mounted, well armed, and had one good, 
well trained pack mule to carry our grub— We both had 
guides, the one assigned to the writer being William 
Rhodes, a rancher, who had been driven in to the shelter of 
the post by Indians, a very quiet, sturdy, honest and reliable 
man who knew the country fairly well within a radius of 
40 miles, but beyond that his knowledge was no better than 
my own or any other man in the detachment, besides being 
one more man to feed and care for after he had got beyond 
his bailiwick as a post guide— I never took another guide 
beyond a 50 mile radius. 

The Pursuit— A Howling "Norther" 

At 7 :1 5 we made the start— the writer taking the Weath- 
erford stage road across the prairie, a mere trail— The 
"Norther" broke with full force, with alternate snow, rain, 
hail and sleet— a heavy gale driving it into our faces— We 
left the trail and rode into several freighters' camps, where 
they had sought shelter in the timber, at great risk to our 
lives— to search for the missing men but without learning 
anything— They had immense roaring fires which could be 
seen for a long distance, but so great was their fear of In- 
dians, that we found them up and ready, rifle in hand— and 



12 On the Trail of Deserters 

behind their wagon bodies — determined to sell their lives as 
dearly as possible — It was hard to tear ourselves away 
from these huge fires — and plunge across the interminable 
prairies in the teeth of the increasing gale — We were none 
too warmly clothed — The men and horses — hardly recov- 
ered from their year's hard work — were beginning to show 
the effects and wear and tear of such a frightful storm. 
Believing that we should all perish if we continued the ride 
all night, and Rhodes, the guide, agreeing with me — upon 
his informing me that his brother had a ranch only a mile or 
two off the road, directions were given to him to head for 
the ranch by the shortest line so that we could secure the 
needed shelter — After a fearful struggle over several miles 
of an open stretch of prairie, breasting into the teeth of one 
of the worst blizzards ever recorded in Texas, we reached 
the ranch, the men and horses almost exhausted, and com- 
pletely coated with ice — The ranch proved to be a low, one 
story log house, with several out-buildings — a ramshackly 
horse shed and corn crib — It was midnight — Several dogs 
announced our approach, and Rhodes aroused his brother — 
Ordering the men to unsaddle, blanket the horses with their 
saddle blankets, and to "tie in" under the "lee" of the build- 
ings, the men to occupy the horse shed — Rhodes, the Cor- 
porals and the writer stalked into the shelter of the "shack" 
— There was but one room with a large stone fire place — 
Rhodes piled on the logs — The room had two beds in it — 
He and the writer, stripping off our outer frozen clothes, and 
hanging them up to dry in front of the blaze — occupied one 
bed — his brother, wife and infant child were in the other, 
while the two Corporals, with several large ranch dogs, 
curled up in their blankets on the open hearth — It was a 
"wild and wooly" night — when the baby wasn't crying the 
dogs were sniffing, growling, whining or whimpering over 
being disturbed by such an influx of strangers — We wore 
out the night with little or no sleep — When day broke it 
was found that the storm was still raging although the wind 
had somewhat abated — Feeding the horses liberally from 



On the Trail of Deserters 13 

Rhodes' corn cribs, for which we paid him generously — and 
after a hasty breakfast, we saddled up and started across 
the prairie to find the road — The country was one sheet of 
glare ice — Our horses were smooth shod — At the road we 
met Sergeant Faber of Troop "A" with a small detach- 
ment returning from some duty and going into Fort R. 
We learned from him that the deserters had been seen the 
night before in Weatherford, which was but a few miles 
away — We skated, slid and floundered along through the 
ice crust, a horse going down now and then until we 
reached a creek about one-half mile from W — when the 
command halted and was placed in bivouac, concealed by 
heavy chaparral — Corporal Charlton was directed to get 
ready to accompany the writer at dark and afoot for a 
thorough search of the town and to begin to assume his 
role — 

The Search — Amateur Army Detectives — The 
Corporars Joke 

We struck the town under cover of darkness, and pro- 
ceeded to "comb" it, both heavily armed and with no insig- 
nia of rank on or about our citizens clothes or any indica- 
tion that we were of the army — "Now, Corporal, you are 
to preserve your incognito — You are to deal with your 
Commanding Officer as though we are simply two friends 
or acquaintances on a night's drive through the 'slums'; 
there are to be no— 'Yes, Sir!' or— 'No, Sir!'— No defer- 
ence is to be paid — him — Don't forget your part! You 
are to be simply — 'Green', — and the other party is to be 
plain 'Brown' — Have your guns handy, and at a given signal 
be prepared for a quick pull on the trigger — These are all the 
instructions necessary, except that you are under no cir- 
cumstances to be separated from me for a moment — and 
watch me all the time for signals" — Charlton straightened 
up — saluted — replied — "Yes, Sir"! and that was the last 
recognition of rank the writer got during this adventure — 



14 On the Trail of Deserters 

All night long we plied our trade of amateur detectives — 
No stone was left unturned — We worked the "dives", faro 
banks — brothels, saloons and questionable resorts, but with- 
out avail — The deserters had been seen but everybody 
seemed mum and blind or deaf and dumb — They had been 
paid ofif for several months — had scattered it — their money 
- — liberally and had left the town — Nobody knew where — 
At one gilded dive "Green", becoming bold and watching 
his chance, assuming the detective role with some slight 
show of experience and with a most startling blase air said 
to the bespangled proprietress — "Didn't you have a place at 
one time in Jacksboro"? "Yes"! — "Well, then, you must 
remember Brown, here", pointing a finger at me — "Oh, 
yes!" was the reply — "I remember him well, and that he 
came often and I have often wondered what became of him" 
— Anger came to the front at this joke — but it had to be 
choked back — the instructions had been given — No frowns 
or even scowls or anything but a positive order would have 
disturbed the imperturable musketeer Corporal — the 
d'Artagnan of our adventure at this point. The writer was 
married and had left his wife and child in the howling gale 
at Fort R — ; and had never seen this "Jezabel" — His out- 
raged dignity sustained a distinct shock — The Corporal was 
mildly rebuked later and it was passed by as part of the 
duality of character which Mackenzie had forced me to as- 
sume if success was to be assured — Nothing was accom- 
plished by our night's work — At day break, sending the 
Corporal back to the bivouac of the command, it was or- 
dered to meet me in town at once — Just as we were deliber- 
ating what the next move was to be — Sergt. Miles Varily 
of Troop "E" with a mounted detachment rode into town — 
He had been to Huntsville, Texas, where he had conveyed 
Satanta and Big Tree, the Ki-o-wa Indian Chiefs — who had 
been in confinement at Fort R — under sentence since July 
6 — to the State Penitentiary where they were to be confined 
for life for the massacre of Henry Warren's teamsters on 
Salt Creek Prairie — Varily had met and talked with the de- 



On the Trail of Deserters 15 

serters on the Bear Creek Road to Cleburne — He said they 
were all well armed — and had declared that they would not 
be taken alive — This — he gave as his reason for not arrest- 
ing them with his small force — He knew all of them and 
had identified them as men of Troop "B" — They were in a 
two-mule freighter's wagon, with a low canvas top drawn 
down tight for concealment — It was driven by a medium 
sized, but stocky built — civilian — At last there seemed to 
be a definite clue — They were evidently heading for Cle- 
burne and Waxahatchie — I must overtake and capture them 
before they reached Cleburne — which was 45 miles distant, 
an all day ride — There was no time to lose — placing Charl- 
ton in the road — and the other Corporal with his men on 
both sides fanned out or deployed for a mile or more, and 
combing all of the ranches and small settlements, the writer 
pushed and directed the search all of the way without any 
further developments — Occasionally the detachments were 
signalled in to the road — Cleburne was reached at dark 
after a terribly hard ride, the storm still continuing, with a 
lull in the wind but growing colder — Securing the services 
of the Deputy Sheriff — we made a thorough search up to 
one o'clock but with no results. 

A Sleepless Night— The Gettysburg "Johnny" 

At 3 o'clock A. M. having sent the Corporal to bed and 
placed the men in bivouac in the edge of the town, the 
writer, having secured a small map of Texas, was seated in 
front of a log fire diligently studying the situation — The de- 
serters must surely be somewhere in the near vicinity — 
They were certainly not in Cleburne — Where had they dis- 
appeared to after leaving Weatherford? Many roads and 
trails led out of Cleburne — some towards the railroads — 
No mistake must be made — A sudden inspiration seized me 
— I woke up the Corporal — "Corporal, find me a two seated 
carriage or conveyance of some kind with driver — 'rake' 
the town — and get it here as soon as possible ; rout out the 



16 On the; Trail of Deserters 

detachment — and report yourself mounted to me at the same 
time" — "Never mind the expense" ! In about 30 minutes 
Charlton was there with a closely curtained-in two-seated 
carriage, carry-all, or Texas "hack", with two mules, and a 
one-legged driver; also the entire detachment mounted — 
Amazement was on the faces of all — What was the play? — 
What was the game being "pulled off" by the "Old Man"? 
"Corporal Charlton, take your carbine and pistol and get 
in the front seat with the driver" — and turning to the other 
Corporal — (Jones) — "You will take our two led horses — 
and follow this 'hack' — never losing touch with it — but al- 
ways remaining as much as possible out of sight — about a 
mile or two in the rear — concealing yourself as much as 
possible by the timber — Keep your eyes on this 'hack' — 
one flash of my handkerchief and you will drop further 
back out of sight if it is open country; two flashes, and you 
are to come up with your detachment and our led horses at 
a run — remember, and always keep out of sight as much as 
possible" — We moved out on the Hillsboro road — inquiries 
were made all along but with no satisfactory results — We 
scoured the settlements, ranches and side trails but without 
avail — We had had a description given us, however, of a 
certain two-horse team — with a number of men in it, which 
partially filled the bill — Feeling perfectly sure that they were 
breaking for the railroad, either at Corsicana or Waxa- 
hatchie — yet it was feared that we were on the wrong road 
— The driver of our conveyance, or "dug out", it seemed, 
had been a confederate soldier, and had lost a leg at Gettys- 
burg in the desperate charge of Longstreet's Corps on 
July 2— upon the "Round Tops" and the "Peach Orchard" 
— He had belonged to the Fifth Texas, Robertson's "Texas 
Brigade", Hood's Division, and strange to record had con- 
fronted the First Brigade — First Division, Fifth Corps, in 
which the writer had served on that fateful day, and In 
that death-strewn spot. He immediately recognized an old 
enemy, became extremely voluble, and insisted upon fighting 
the battle "o'er again", with many a story and reminiscence 



On the Trail of Deserters 17 

of his many campaigns, until, at length, he, not having been 
let into the secret of our plans, was so inclined to put in 
his time telling stories that we were in great danger of 
losing the object of an entire night's hard work — He even 
wanted to stop his mules to emphasize his points, when 
much to the "Johnny's" chagrin and to the intense amuse- 
ment of Charlton, my d'Artagnan Musketeer, the "lines" 
"by order", were turned over to the latter, while the writer 
having no whip — prodded the mules along with a sharp 
stick — Time — and then Time — was our one objective — We 
were not so sure of our direction — It was getting late — and 
with our delays we were still some miles from Hillsboro — 
All was working well in our plans ; the detachment was out 
of sight well to the rear — 

We emerged from the cover of the timber upon a "hog 
wallow" prairie — and from this high, rolling hill or divide, 
when descending to the valley of a small creek, saw ahead — 
two miles or more — a small train of wagons in the hollow, 
moving to head this small "branch" — Talk about the thump- 
ing of one's heart!! Some intuition told me that my de- 
serters were there; my pulse quickened perceptibly, and I 
almost shouted to the "Jehu" — who had been allowed to 
resume the "lines" but was slacking up — to "keep busy," — 
and to gather his animals for a rallying burst of magnificent 
speed — Now the train was seen to split — some going around 
- — while one low canvas-topped two-horse wagon kept on 
the road for the "branch" — Then I saw a number of men — 
6 or 8 — get out and try to wade across the stream. They 
were the deserters! of this I now felt sure — I said nothing 
— ^but sharply touched the Corporal's elbow, jumped from 
the "hack" and running back a few yards gave the hand- 
kerchief signal "two flashes" — The detachment was in full 
view on the high ground silhouetted against the sky. The 
Corporal had closed up too much while we were in the tim- 
ber, and when emerging — exposed himself to the view of 
the men in the valley as I had feared — They had seen him, 
and scenting danger made a wild break — The detachment 



18 On the Trail of Deserters 

came forward with our led horses at a gallop — but the 
deserters, having crossed the stream and scattered, were 
now heading for the fringe of timber, chaparral and brush 
which either skirted, or was near, the creek — 

The Capture 

Once mounted I shouted for one Corporal to head off the 
main wagon train on the road — and detain it and hold it at 
all hazards until my return. Taking Charlton we dashed for 
the stream. My powerful horse bogged; — Dismounting in 
water up to my waist, by careful management he was soon 
out on dry land. Chariton led — "Get after them now,. Cor- 
poral — Open fire! Shoot over their heads and close to 
them, but not to kill" — Finely mounted — and one of the 
crack shots in the regiment, with carbine advanced, he was 
in his element and "swung out" at a gallop for the men 
who were trying to gain the bushes or chaparral in the dis- 
tance — He was an absolutely true type of the handsome, 
graceful soldier and rider, with the close seat and the Ameri- 
can or cow-boy stirrup, and the resourceful, masterful, 
trained cavalryman of the days closely following the Civil 
War — Bang ! Crack ! ! Crack ! ! ! went his carbine — As I fol- 
lowed him I could see the dirt and dust sprayed over the 
fleeing deserters — As the shots whistled and struck about 
them, they instantly dropped to the ground for safety — and 
lay there until some men, whom I had recalled from the de- 
tachment, had followed me and gathered them up as pris- 
oners — None were to be shot unless they resisted. I gained 
the road to the brow of a hill overlooking the country. 
After securing five with no resistance, and being told by 
them that there were two more — a little darkey near by 
shouted — Oh, golly Massa, dere dey go ober de hill, way 
yonder" — At least two miles away they could be seen run- 
ning, fairly flying. The Corporal and writer dashed after 
them, and after a long ride and a diligent search in the 
bushes, together with a few warning shots — we secured 
them. With these men and the driver of their team we 



On the Traii. of Deserters 19 



returned to the train — I had not fully trusted the other 
Corporal, on account of his seeming indifference, and he 
had somewhat hampered my plans and movements — so I felt 
anxious as to whether my orders to hold the train fast had 
been obeyed. He had, however, stopped the train and held 
the wagon master, and the whole "outfit" at the point of 
his carbine, as in a vise. 

The wagon master was a cool and determined fellow 
with cold, grey eyes, and a pugnacious nose and chin; he 
and his teamsters were well armed, their guns showing con- 
spicuously in their holsters — or open belt scabbards — He 
had been threatening the Corporal, and now, seeing no in- 
signia of rank on my citizen's clothes, he began to threaten 
me with criminal prosecution as soon as he reached Hills- 
boro for illegally holding up his train — Visions of Macken- 
zie's instructions relating to a "violation of the Civil Laws", 
began to loom up large before my eyes. He saw my hesita- 
tion and becoming abusive began to be more insistent for the 
release of himself and men — Sizing up the situation at a 
glance, the bluff was made — "Look here, my man! We have 
found a wagon in your train filled with deserters from the 
United States Army — I am an officer of the Army — and if 
you don't stop your abuse I will put you in irons and take 
you along to the Civil authorities and turn you over on a 
charge of assisting them to escape" — That quieted him — 
"Are these all of the teamsters in your train? Produce 
every man who was with you when it was first sighted, or I 
will order my men to search it before you can go ! Never 
mind your threats ! We are out for deserters". He replied : 
"These are two men who joined my train a few days ago ; 
they are citizens — I know nothing about them — They can 
tell their own story." The two men stepped forward in 
citizen's clothes unarmed and with no "set up" or the slight- 
est appearance or sign of the soldier about them. The 
larger and older, told with a strong Irish brogue a very 
straight story; how they had "been working" their way 
along; had sought the train for "shelter" — had "not been in 



20 On the Trail of Deserters 

the country very long", etc. The other was a mere boy. I 
was about to let them go with the train, none of the detach- 
ment or the deserters whom I had already secured being 
able to recognize or identify them, when my attention was 
suddenly attracted to the older man's face — It showed dis- 
tinctly that a heavy beard had hut recently been shaved off — 
and this as winter was coming on — I gave no signs, how- 
ever, of having made this discovery, but said : "You team- 
sters can go — but I shall hold these men — If they are not 
deserters, they can easily clear themselves, and will be re- 
leased". As I watched the older man's face, I saw him 
change color, but he maintained his nerve — replying that he 
would "prosecute me for false arrest and imprisonment," 
probably taking his cue from the wagon master — who, after 
more bluster and more threats of what he would do, disap>- 
peared in the distance and we never saw or heard of him 
again. It was a chance on the bluff — Loading the nine men 
thus accumulated into the old man's wagon, upon reaching 
Hillsboro, a few miles away, and securing the services of 
Deputy Sheriff, H. A. Macomber, we and the prisoners 
were given a good meal at the house of the jailer, J. A. 
Purnell, the first any had had since leaving Fort R — and 
shortly after dark, the jailer leading with a lantern, the 
prisoners closely guarded, and the three citizens (?) loudly 
protesting in Chimmie Fadden's vernacular : "Wot 'tell" ! — 
and then adding: "What's the use"! etc., the astounded 
ranchers of H — saw this strange procession proceeding to 
the county jail to give them protection from the howling, icy 
gale — still blowing — All jails in Texas were then made of 
huge, square-hewn, green logs — built up solid, and the out- 
side thickly studded with sharp nails — Upon the outside a 
flight of rickety steps led up to a door heavily padlocked 
and barred. We entered by file, a sort of chamber or loft, 
about 13 or 14 feet square. In the centre of the floor was a 
large trap door with a ring in it — This trap being lifted a 
ladder was lowered down to the ground floor inside, and 
the prisoners were ordered to descend into this ground cell 



On the Trail of Deserters 21 

in which was but one small grated window, high up — for air 
only. The ladder then being drawn up and the trap door 
secured, they were supposed to be safe, as it was eight or ten 
feet from the floor of the cell to the floor of the loft — In this 
Hillsboro jail, however, the ladders had been broken and had 
disappeared, so that the deserters had to be let down by hand, 
the little short old wagoner coming last — It was most amus- 
ing to hear this well paid old scoundrels squeals and whin- 
ing, and his piteous appeals for mercy as he hung dangling 
in mid-air through the "Man hole" before dropping him the 
four or five feet to the ground. He kicked, squirmed and 
wriggled in his agony of fright; he moaned, groaned — 
grunted and sighed; begged, implored and prayed — in the 
most ridiculous manner — All the time the deserters below 
him, realizing how fortunate they were in being sheltered 
from the icy blast of the "Norther" now howHng around the 
corners of the old log jail, were mocking — "booing" and 
sarcastically commenting on the little man's lack of sand — 
grit and courage — Having heard much and seen little of 
these Texas jails, except the outside, and at a distance, my 
curiosity was aroused to more closely examine one — The 
jailer tried to persuade me not to take the risk — But after 
assuring him that I had nothing to fear from these men in 
going down among them as I knew every one — and handing 
him my pistols — he lowered me down — passing the lantern 
down after me. After carefully examining this uninterest- 
ing hole very carefully, however, I felt that my curiosity 
had been amply satisfied — and cheering up the "old man" 
much to the amusement of the prisoners, all of whom 
seemed to be contented with their blankets and a compara- 
tively warm shelter from the storm — telling one of the men 
to give me a "leg up" — I was pulled up by the jailer — all of 
the prisoners assisting and bidding me a most cheerful 
"good-night". The next morning after "turning out" the 
deserters and filling them with a hot breakfast at the jailer's 
where. Charlton and the rest of the detachment with myself 
had spent the night, they opened up with a long and very 



22 On the Trail of Deserters 

strange story — Peters, the spokesman for the deserters, de- 
clared that two detectives (?) or, as they called themselves 
— "constables" — had followed them from near Weather- 
ford, on the Bear Creek road, and arrested them. Instead 
of being armed as Sergeant Varily had informed the writer, 
they (the deserters) had parted with all of their carbines 
before reaching W — for a good round sum. The pseudo 
detectives, therefore, found it a comparatively easy matter, 
with their double barrel shot guns to persuade the unarmed 
soldiers to "throw up their hands" — They had even started 
to turn back to Weatherford, when at the suggestion of one 
of their number negotiations were opened by which they 
were released by the fake constables — but, at the sacrifice of 
all the "greenbacks" the entire party possessed — After this 
compulsory squeeze, the detectives (?) and their plucked 
friends parted company. The writer resolved, upon his re- 
turn, to investigate this matter and if the deserter's story 
proved true — and they had all corroborated Peters' state- 
ment — to secure the arrest and indictment of these Border 
Sharks. 

The march back was cold and bitter — We were more than 
100 miles from Fort R — No handcuffs or irons could be 
obtained — and it was decided not to "rope them" — Thick 
ice was in all the streams — Calling Peters, the most intelli- 
gent of the prisoners, to me, the writer laid down the law : 
"Peters, I am going to march you to Fort R — and I want 
no trouble; tell the men they shall be well fed and they 
shall have shelter whenever it is possible to obtain it — Cor- 
poral Charlton will be placed in direct charge of you — 'fall 
in' — the men in the middle of the road in column of twos" — 
Then turning to the men — so that all could hear me — I 
added: "You men must keep the middle of the road and 
obey all orders issued through Corporal C — by me, without 
any question or discussion; Any movement by you to bolt 
the trail, or to escape into the chaparral will only result in 
your being shot down — You can talk and smoke and have 
freedom of movement — but you know both of us well 



On the Trail of Deserters 23 

enough to understand that there will be no trifling" — At 11 
a. m. we started and camped at the Widow Jewell's ranch, 
15 miles from Hillsboro — Placing the men in an open corn 
crib — assigning each a sleeping place and posting a man at 
the log door — he was ordered to "shoot the first man who 
left that position without authority from me". This was 
said loudly in the hearing of every man, and he was then 
asked if he understood it. 

For the first time we now ascertained from the prisoners 
why they had so mysteriously disappeared from the map 
after leaving Weatherford and after being seen and talked 
to by Sergt, Varily on the Bear Creek Road — and why we 
got no trace of them the next night in Cleburne. It seems 
that just before reaching the town, upon the advice of the 
wily driver of their get-away wagon — they had turned off 
the Bear Creek Road and following a blind trail to the 
right had reached the little settlement of Buchanan — and 
bivouacking there that night — had come into the Cleburne- 
Hillsboro road again the next morning — shortly before I 
sighted them at the small creek or "branch" near H. Dur- 
ing all of that miserable night while we were searching the 
slums and dives of Cleburne, they were at a comfortable, 
blazing bivouac fire not more than three or four miles away, 
debating the probabilities of their being followed. 

At the first opportunity I proved the two citizens — who 
had been "kidnapped" from the train near Hillsboro — to be 
deserters — While giving them the "Third degree" in camp 
the first night after leaving H — they were thrown off their 
guard by my suddenly shouting — "Stand Attention, Sir! 
when talking to an officer" ! Which he did instantly. I 
then had them stripped and found Government shirts and 
socks on both of them — They then made a "clean breast" 
of it, declaring that they were recruits of Troop "K" and 
had been enlisted but two or three months; all of which 
accounted for their non-military appearance when it was 
decided to hold them on suspicion — It also accounted for 
the inability of any one, either in the detachment, or among 



24 On the Trail of Deserters 

the old deserters of Troop "B", to identify them. Turning 
out the prisoners in the morning they were placed in column 
and the order was repeated — "Shoot dead instantly any man 
who starts to leave the road without my permission". It 
had the desired effect. Wherever I could find one they 
were placed in jail. In passing through Cleburne and stop- 
ping off to pay some bills — suspicion having been attracted 
to another man, I "rounded him up" — and after some stren- 
uous "Third Degree" questioning — he proved to be a de- 
serter from "Troop F" who had preceded the others by a 
few days — I had now ten deserters, and the "old man" 
driver of the freight wagon. As we approached Weather- 
ford — I began to give some thought to the two alleged de- 
tectives or constables ( ?), and ransacked my brain as to the 
method for their capture. The rascally old driver had, after 
much diplomatic persuasion, informed me that these men 
were really constables and acting detectives, and one was 
even then acting as Deputy Sheriff of the County, and lived 
just outside of W — While I was doubtful as to my power 
to arrest either, I determined to make a show of frightening 
them, and to report their case to the Civil Authorities for 
their disposal — I commenced a vigorous search — Riding 
into a ranch, pointed out by the prisoners, I inquired — "does 

Mr. live here" ? Being in citizen's clothes and alone, 

my mission was not suspected — "That is my name", said a 
man sitting in a chair on the porch — "I arrest you then in 
the name of the United States Government for accepting 
bribes of deserters from our army, and allowing them to 
escape — My men are outside in the road — don't waste any 
words, but come right along" — To my astonishment, the 
man was so frightened that mounting his horse, which stood 
outside, and surrendering his gun — he preceded me to the 
road — ^where he came face to face with all of his accusers, 
who now seeing him under arrest, made bold to unmerci- 
fully taunt him with his rascality — shouting — "Hey, John- 
nie, where's my $10.00?" "How much of a pile did you 
pull out of me at Bear Creek (?)" etc., etc., much to the 



On the Trail of Deserters 25 

bogus detective's discomfiture and chagrin. They had now 
the "whip hand". He rode like a Httle kitten under charge 
of Corporal Charlton into W — when a complaint was en- 
tered arid sworn to by all of the deserters, and he was 
placed under bonds for his appearance at the Spring term of 
the U. S. District Court at Tyler, Texas, where, some 
months later, the writer was ordered from Department 
Headquarters to appear as a witness against him, and the 
second constable whom I captured in much the same manner 
as the first, but nearer Weatherford. The old wagoner 
pleaded hard, saying that he had never been in such a scrape. 
It would "kill him to have to go to prison", etc. — but, 
knowing that Mackenzie was anxious and determined to 
break up these wholesale desertions that were then taking 
place in the regiment — many of them with the secret con- 
nivance and assistance of citizens, although it was never 
discovered that any of them were constables — and would 
endorse the most extreme measures I might make to accom- 
plish it, I promptly placed him under bonds — and left him 
in W — in charge of the Civil Authorities. 

The Discovery — The Deserter "Squeals" 

The streams were all frozen up — The weather was still 
icy cold — So far I had been unable to get any trace, or sure 
clue of the missing carbines which the men had carried with 
them when deserting, and sold. The deserters refused to 
divulge their whereabouts except to hint that they were 
somewhere between Crawford's Ranch and Fort R — At 
last I determined to use heroic methods — At that date such 
'methods were recognized as legitimate, if not legal in bring- 
ing recalcitrants to their senses, instead of resorting to the 
slow and laborious, as well as questionable methods of Court 
Martial. These methods were legacies of the Civil War, 
and in the field, away from the complicated machinery of 
Post Administration — and on such duty — and under such 
wide open instructions as Mackenzie had given us, I consid- 



26 On the Trail of Deserters 

ered it absolutely necessary to employ — I resolved to select 
the weakest minded man in the group of deserters, and, in 
the presence of them, the two corporals and the entire de- 
tachment, "tie him up by the thumbs", until he "squealed" — 
Such punishment was of almost daily occurrence at the great 
Draft Rendezvous — This was done with the desired result 
— and I located the missing arms, the property of the United 
States which I was out after, without fuither trouble. This 
man was Crafts — Placing the deserters in Mrs. Crawford's 
corn bins, the ground still being covered with snow and ice 
and the weather bitter cold — I determined to send in a 
mounted courier or runner to Mackenzie. Writing a hasty 
message — a personal note on a piece of soiled brown paper — 
a brief announcement of the capture was made, but reciting 
no details — also the condition of both the men and horses — 
"all nearly exhausted from cold and loss o! sleep — the pris- 
oners nearly barefooted, and with sore and blistered 
feet, chafed legs, etc. — but plenty to eat; horses unshod." 
He was urged to "send a wagon, some handcuffs — ropes — 
rations, etc., to meet me somewhere on the road — and with- 
out delay — between Crawford's Ranch and Fort R — I was 
proceeding slowly", etc. — The wagon met me, but not until 
I was within a few miles of the post — and just as the pris- 
oners were emphatically exclaiming that they "could go no 
further." They were bundled into the wagon, much to 
their and my relief, for these footsore and chafed cavalry- 
men, as I had seen them in October after being dismounted 
in the stampede near Canon Blancho, were now in the same 
demoralized condition, and it is extremely doubtful if they 
could have been pushed any further afoot. 

Hardin's Ranch— Two Viragos— The Search— The 

Threat 

When Hardin's Ranch, 16 miles from Fort R — , was 
reached, I bivouacked my men and taking Charlton pro- 
ceeded to reconnoitre — I found two tall, gaunt, leathery, 



On the Trail of Deserters 27 

bony, unprepossessing, sour-looking females — With some 
hesitation, I approached my delicate mission or undertaking 
and began to interview them, using all of the engaging man- 
ners and suave (?) diplomacy I was capable of — which, as 
a soldier — so I have been told — has never been of a very 
pronounced character. It availed me nothing — To the in- 
quiry as to whether any of the men were at home, and if any 
carbines had been left at the ranch by these soldiers when 
going down the country, the reply was curtly snapped out — 
"No"! — They 'lowed they hadn't never seen no carbines; 
the "old man" wasn't home — I politely asked if I might 
"look about the ranch and premises" — That stirred the gall 
of these specimens of the gentle, tender sex — "No! you 
can't" ! — Then I began a mild form of the "Third Degree" 
— and bringing up the man who had — under pressure — 
"Squealed" — to identify the women — and to make an even 
stronger statement as to the disposal of their carbines — we 
were met with nothing but repulses, followed by foul abuse 
— such as : "You blue-bellied Yankees better go away from 
here — if the "old man" was here he would lick you uns 
outen yer boots", etc. — I was not, at this point, inclined to 
spoil the reputation I had already acquired or sacrifice my 
good name, or make any slip by any "Violation of the 
Civil Law" now in full force in all parts of Texas — in view 
of Mackenzie's explicit instructions on that point — Neither 
did I feel inclined to be beaten just at this stage of the 
game — the end of this frightfully exhausting and most mo- 
mentous trip, or to be balked and bluffed by these two raw 
bone, belligerent termagants, and lose the fruits of my thus 
far assured success — I wanted to make a clean "sweep up" 
of my trip, and, in order to do so — I must have those car- 
bines, now that I felt I was so close to them — So I swung 
around to other tactics — or, rather Grand Strategy — "If you 
don't produce those carbines from their places of conceal- 
ment, which I know to be here or about your premises, I 
shall be compelled to search your ranch" — This last shot hit 
hard — More and more abuse, coupled with more threats of 



28 On the Traiiv of Deserters 

what the "old man" would do to me. The climax had now 
come — I could not see my way clear to bluff any longer — I 
felt that I must act at once and decisively — "Corporal Charl- 
ton, call the men at once — Search this ranch thoroughly — 
If necessary rip up the floors, and turn over the "loft"; 
ransack all of the out buildings, but be careful that you do 
not injure these ladies" (?) "If they resist or try to use 
any guns, treat them as you would 'he' men; jump on them, 
and securely rope them — and don't let them get 'the drop' 
on you — You take charge of the job and see that it is well 
done" — His steel-blue eyes flashed — My musketeer Corpo- 
ral — "d'Artagnon" — sprang at it with a relish — He had 
heard, and been the object — of much of the abuse of these 
scolding viragos — The ranch was thoroughly searched — the 
"rough-neck" women offering no resistance except with their 
bitter tongues which shot off the vilest sort of "Billings 
gate" — It was without avail. The carbines were evidently 
concealed at some point distant from the house — As we 
were about to leave — the women, unconquered — again spat 
out — "If the 'old man' wuz heah he would lick you uns out 
o' yer boots". Here was a fine chance for another bluff. I 
walked up to them, and in my most impressive manner gave 
here this decisive Coup d'Etat — "// your old man doesn't 
deliver those carbines into Fort Richardson by lo o'clock to- 
morrow morning — / will bring this same detachment out 
here with a raw hide lariat and hang him to that oak tree'' — 
They had seen me ransack the ranch, they had known what 
that threat of hanging meant in the reconstruction days 
among the "bad men" — the "gun men" and desperadoes of 
the far South West — They showed signs of wilting — and 
I departed, inwardly cursing the luck which had deserted me 
at the last moment and compelled me to make a raw bluff 
which I knew full well I could not carry out or enforce in 
view of Mackenzie's most strenuous official objections — 



On the Trail of Deserters 



29 



Land the Prisoners— The "Old Man" Makes Good 

Reaching Fort R— in a few hours and reporting to Mac- 
kenzie the prisoners were "turned over"— and I was just 
seeking a shave, a hot bath— some good grub and a rest 
from the dreadful "wear and tear" of one of the most wear- 
ing and completely exhaustive duties I had ever performed, 
either during the Civil War or later, when Mackenzie sent 
for me— I was still in a very dirty and bedraggled suit of 
citizen clothes— I needed complete relaxation and rest from 
my week's gruelling trip— during which, with the exception 
of two nights, I had slept, or tried to sleep— "out in the 
open" in this howling icy "Norther"— and with much re- 
sponsibility pressing upon me. "Ask the General to please 
excuse me until I shave, wash, and change my clothes — 
Word came back at once- "Tell him that Gen. Hardie is 
here and wishes to see him particularly. Never mind his 
personal appearance-come now just as he is" ! It was 
virtually an order— So I went but in a condition of wilted 
militarism. Mackenzie opened up with a most cordial in- 
troduction to Gen. H- and the remark: "Gen. Hardi^e, I 
want you to see what my officers of Civil War record (I 
inwardly grew profane) "can accomplish when they are sent 
out in weather like this to get results under merely verbal 
instructions', and acting alone under their own initiative, 
good judgment and discretion- He has done far more than 
I expected of him and I am extremely gratified . He con- 
tinued with profuse congratulations, thanks and personal 
commendations. 

"Congratulations" - "Thanks" - "Special Commenda- 
tions," Etc.— A Soothing Balm (?) 
Gen James A. Hardie, then an Assistant Inspector Gen- 
eral U S Army— the one time friend and confidential Mili- 
tary Adviser of Abraham Lincoln, whom he selected to send 
on that delicate mission to Frederick City, Md., to relieve 



30 On the Trail of Deserters 

Gen. Hooker from command of the Army of the Potomac 
just prior to the Battle of Gettysburg — appointing Gen. 
Meade to succeed him — happened to be at Fort R — on his 
annual tour of inspection of the frontier posts. After such 
an introduction from Mackenzie — Gen. Hardie was very 
informal — He was a very handsome man, then about 48 
years of age — He was very courteous and had an exceed- 
ingly attractive personality — With the disparity in our ages, 
he seemed, at that period, to be a very "old man". He had 
served in the Mexican War, and died as a Brevet Maj. 
General, Dec. 14, 1876 — Placing both hands on my shoul- 
ders he said : "Young man, I am proud of you — General 
Mackenzie ought to be proud of having such an officer in his 
regiment." "I want to personally congratulate and warmly 
thank you for the fine work you have done — It was a duty 
of very great responsibility, and you should be commended 
not only by the Department, but by the entire Army. I be- 
lieve it is a record that you should be very proud of." In 
rehearsing my adventures to them, I came to the incident at 
Hardin's ranch, and my encounter with the two "Jezabels" 
— Mackenzie flared up — "Didn't I particularly impress upon 
you in my 'verbal instructions' that you must not 'violate the 

Civil Law' in any way — I " Without waiting for him 

to finish his sentence, I replied : "Well, Sir ! I have violated 
no Civil Law. I have hung nobody as yet, only made a 
huge blufif. You will see those carbines here tomorrow 
morning". The "old man" who was going to "lick me out 
of my boots" — promptly at 10 o'clock — rolled into Fort 
R — with all of the carbines. I happened to be at the Ad- 
jutant's office— "Is the Gineral in"? "He is"!— "I've 
brought in them guns" ! — After making a statement more or 
less satisfactory of how they happened to come into his 
possession, and after Mackenzie had "hauled him over tKe 
coals" for a "send ofif" — the rancher departed — "a sadder 
but a wiser" man. I never got any sweet looks from the 
"ladies" after that when duty called me past that ranch. 
Lawton came in a day or two later. He certainly was 



On the Trail of Deserters 31 

"out of luck" — The deserters had not headed his way. He 
had gone farther than the writer — Way up into the Indian 
Nation (now Oklahoma), and not only had not succeeded 
in "bagging" anybody, but, most unfortunately, one of tHe 
best men in his detachment deserted, taking his horse, arms 
and entire equipment with him. After ascertaining what 
had come my way, he seemed to be much crest fallen. 

A few days afterwards Mackenzie, upon hearing that an- 
other man of Troop "F" was known to be a deserter, and 
had been located rather vaguely as being in the "Keechi 
Valley" — sent for me, and, after smilingly giving me as 
well as he was able, the location of the ranch — and announc- 
ing that as I had been proved the " champ een" catcher of de- 
serters, he was going to send me out after him — He trusted 
that I would not belie my "reputation" — After a day's trip 
in fine weather I was able to definitely place him, and after 
watching the ranch all day — surrounded it, and, without any 
trouble, captured him as he came in from his work in the 
field — My record now was : 11 deserters and 3 citizens, two 
of them Constables — with all the arms carried away from 
the post. Corporal Charlton had proved himself a very in- 
valuable man. As a soldier he was wonderfully resourceful 
and active; in action he was intense, energetic and decisive. 
With his intelligence and good, horse sense, he would, 
even without the complete education which some men have 
without sense — have made a good all round commissioned 
officer — a credit to the regiment and to the Army — It is a 
pity that we did not have more of his type with which to 
build up the army with practical men of his caliber — instead 
cf having so much over educated material. 

I had gained much valuable experience in the methods of 
unearthing rascality, and in accomplishing results, under 
dreadful exposure and hardships; many trials and 
difficulties. 

Shortly after this the writer received a letter of thanks 
from the Department. As it is the only one that he ever 
received, and as he never expects to receive another — it is 



32 On the Trail of Deserters 



esteemed as a rare curiosity — and it is modestly added to 
complete the record and round out the story. 

Headquarters Department of Texas, 
Office of Ass't Adjutant General, 
San Antonio, Texas, Jan. 4, i8y2. 
Second Lieutenant Robert G. Carter, 4th Cavalry, 

(Through Headquarters, Fort Richardson, Texas) — 
Sir:— 

I have the honor to acknowledge receipt of your report of 
the 9th ultimo, relative to your pursuit of deserters under 
Special Orders No. 280, Fort Richardson, Texas, dated No- 
vember 39, 1871, — which resulted in the capture of ten 
deserters. 

The Department Commander desires me to express to you 
his gratification at your success, and his special commendation 
for the zeal and ability displayed by you. 

The good conduct and faithful services of the enlisted men 
composing the detachment, and Mr. Rhodes, citizen guide, is 
deemed a proper subject for a letter of commendation to the 
Post Commander. 

I am Sir, very respectfully, your ob't servant, 

(Signed) H. Clay Wood, 
Assistant Adjutant Gen 

Military Experience and Common Sense vs. Military 
Education and "Intensive Training" 

If a man is not endowed with good common sense, or it 
is not an inherent trait — ^no amount of training he might 
receive at West Point or any other Military institution for 
the purpose of educating that sense into him, or cultivating 
what little sense he possesses — especially the military or 
fighting sense — or, any effort to convert him into a practical 
soldier, could make him one, and the time and effort will have 
been worse than wasted — It is simply impossible to supply 
in him by mere education what he is lacking through nature's 
gift — and this truth — absolutely axiomatic — applies to all 
walks of life — Good sense, combined with a liberal educa- 
tion well directed along right lines, makes for success in all 



On the Traiiv of Deserters 33 

pursuits, whether as President, lawyer, doctor, minister, the 
business man or the professional soldier — But all the edu- 
cation in the wide universe, unaccompanied by good sense, 
spells defeat for any class — and would not rescue a man 
from common mediocrity — The world's trail is strewn with 
such senseless wrecks — They are mere human derelicts on 
the ocean of life — and the more a man of that type is edu- 
cated or over educated the worse it is ; and the more accentu- 
ated does his failure become — the more apparent his lack of 
common sense, and the more liability there is to wreckage — 
In no other profession does this become so painfully appar- 
ent or more pronounced than in that of the professional sol- 
dier, when some desperate effort is being made to create — 
manufacture, or transform a little man in uniform, a par- 
venue or a man of mediocre caliber — into a great commander 
of men — one whose horse sense is particularly lacking — or 
which cannot by any amount of education or training be de- 
veloped — and worse still when he himself through an over 
supply of egotism or conceit is not, nor can he be made 
aware of his failing, but bungles along until disaster over- 
takes him and his command, and every thing connected 
with him and them — 

The writer claims that there has not been, nor is there 
now sufficient care taken in the selection of candidates for 
entrance to the Military Academy. Little or no heed is 
taken of their aptitude or fitness for a Military career — 
and that there are in the service to-day many officers who, 
from this lack of fitness and deficiency in common sense, 
are an incubus to the Army — and should be "canned" — 
Competitive examinations in Congressional Districts de- 
velop a class of bright students — some honor men ranking 
high in their class studies and highly specialized along cer- 
tain lines, but who, from lack of inherent qualities, fail in 
the essentials that go to make up an alert, well-balanced, 
clear-headed, resourceful, decisive, "cracker-jack" — rough 
and tumble soldier in the field — It is not in them — Those 
who have had campaign and battle-field experience — have 



34 On the Trail of Deserters 

all seen this — Entrance to West Point on certificates or 
diplomas from High Schools do not altogether fill the bill 
either — for they are apt to be guided by political favoritism 
or Congressional pull rather than a selection on general 
merit and fitness for a military life* — based generally upon 
good health — a sound body and a clear, receptive mind — 
"Mens Sana in corpore sano" but, above all things the one 
dominating desire to adopt the Army as a life career alone — 
combined with plenty of good, sound — horse sense — West 
Point will do the rest in the way of preparation and train- 
ing — Many of the College and School systems are not uni- 
form or in any way co-ordinated with the class instructions 
at West Point — and much that these students have gone 
over in Freshmen — Sophomore — Junior or even Senior 
courses have to be undone — gone over again — or entirely 
reversed — The writer has seen a College junior utterly fail 
or "fall down" at his preliminary examination for lack of 
thoroughness and drill in the three "R's" — All this is a 
waste of time — If then, the student's bent is not inclined to 
an Army life — and his heart is not in it — but to the law, 
medicine or the ministry — there is more waste and loss of 
time — in trying to convert a good minister, lawyer, doctor 
or grocer into a mighty poor soldier — All of these qualifica- 
tions, and predilections — the individual tastes and prefer- 



* Theodore Roosevelt in his "Letters to His Children" — pp. 87-89, 
referring to his son "Ted" entering West Point, says : "It would be a 
great misfortune for you to start into the Army or Navy as a career 
and find that you had mistaken your desires and had gone in without 
fully weighing the matter. You ought not to enter unless you feel 
genuinely drawn to the life as a life-work. If so, go in, but not other- 
wise." * * "Mr. Loeb (Secretary to President Roosevelt) says he 
wished to enter the army because he did not know what to do, could 
not foresee whether he would succeed or fail in life, and felt that the 
army would give him a liznng and a career. Now, if this is at bottom 
of your feeling I should advise you not to go in. I should say yes to 
some boys, but not to you." If all fathers had given as good advice to 
their sons who have been aspirants to that kind of military glory which 
would give them "a living and a career", we would have been saved the 
mortification of "canning" some of our graduates of West Point during 
this world war, who having acquired the "career" were not worth the 
powder with which to blow them out of their O. D. (Olive Drab) 
uniforms. 



On the Trail op Deserters 35 



ences of the young candidates should be considered, looked 
into and carefully weighed in selecting, educating and 
launching men into a career where they, by rapid promo- 
tion, are bound to become the future ranking officers and 
commanders of our Armies — Many a slip and disaster have 
occurred in an Army by misplaced judgment — slowness of 
decision and lack of common sense in trying to fit a "square 
peg into a round hole" or by educating a man for the service 
and permitting him to attain high rank and high command 
before it shall have been discovered that he not only does 
not possess the necessary qualifications for the same but is 
absolutely deficient in good sense — good judgment, decisive 
action, or even the ordinary military instincts to maintain 
the high standard of efficiency and success pertaining there- 
to—and upon which all depends— In a garrison of 10 
troops of Cavalry and three Companies of Infantry — Mac- 
kenzie had not only carefully gone over the entire roster 
from which to select two officers upon whose experience 
and good judgment he could absolutely depend for the per- 
formance of a duty in which he not only wanted but ex- 
pected and demanded decisive results, but he had revolved 
all the possibilities and probabilities of dismal failure had 
he selected any other than Lawton and myself. 

It is hoped that the writer will neither be charged with 
petty conceit, undue egotism nor personal vanity in making 
these simple declarations of facts the absolute truth of 
which never was, nor ever could be gainsayed by any officer 
of that period in the Fourth Cavalry. 

In this entire campaign after these deserters, success was 
dependent, not upon any study or knowledge of tactics, 
strategy, or any game of war, but largely upon good, com- 
mon sense, sound judgment — almost intuition — a, ready re- 
sourcefulness and quick, decisive action — It was practically 
outside of a theoretical conception of any war problem — as 
we understand it, but included within the scope of its prac- 
tical activities. No book has ever been written, or ever 
will be, which could begin to lay down any cut and dried 



36 On the Trail of Deserters 

plan of action, rules, or any fundamental principles in a 
case like this, or hundreds of other cases similar to the per- 
formance of such special duties, any more than a text book 
could have been written prior to 1914 on how to deal with 
the German methods of conducting a war for the subjuga- 
tion of the world by trench, barbed wire and dug-out sys- 
tems along the Hindenberg lines, etc. All the study of a 
life time involving such problems, or military knowledge, 
would be of no avail to some men, — whether civilians or 
soldiers — unless they possessed, at the same time, plenty of 
resourcefulness and horse sense and could readily adjust 
themselves to the ever changing conditions of those same 
problems. The factors never remain fixed or constant. It 
is the same in battle and with the factors controlling it — 
which accounts for the lack of success of many so called 
soldiers by their failure to get away from fixed rules. There 
is one word that seems to involve the main spring of a 
soldier's action in all such emergencies — and that is — 
Experience — and the practical application of that experience 
to all of the problems of life whether great or small, but 
especially in puzzling situations like this, where the factors 
are dependent on no fixed rules — are never constant — and 
therefore events so shape themselves in such rapid succes- 
sion that without quick, decisive action based upon one's re- 
sources and sound judgment gained by experience — the de- 
pendence upon study of any books which might bear in any 
way upon such conditions would, not only prove a most 
ridiculous farce, but would be offering a premium on com- 
monplace student soldiers — obtuseness and asinine stupidity. 
There is such a thing in the development of a soldier 
along certain lines for practical work, as over education, as 
well as over training — In the one case he thinks he knows 
so much that he cannot be taught any more, and is apt, 
therefore, to eliminate entirely tlie element of common sense 
— the one factor for success upon which he must largely 
depend — and to neglect to apply some of the most simple 
and practical principles in his earlier education — and, in the 



On the Traii. of Deserters 37 

other case he may go stale, and lose much of his spirit, en- 
thusiasm and energy while waiting to test out his knowledge 
in the real field of endeavor and practical experience. 

Soldiers Not Bom 

It has been said that "artists and poets are born" — and 
"soldiers are made". True it is, however, that Soldiers are 
not bom. There is not, and there never will be such a thing 
as a bom soldier, not even in a hereditary sense. They must 
be trained. But — to educate and train a man to be a soldier 
certain basic elements are absolutely necessary. Ever since 
the world began, and hero worship and the cheers, applause 
and adulations were first bestowed on such warriors as 
Caesar, Hannibal, Alexander and Frederick the Great, Na- 
poleon, and on numerous other returning conquerors, it has 
become well known that certain elements or basic principles 
have been necessary upon which to build in order to develop 
and produce the really great soldier. 

Taking the raw material to educate and train, it has been 
found essential that a man should possess one or more of the 
following requisites. Military bent, instinct or intuition — 
Military aptitude and spirit — and any one or all of these 
must necessarily be combined with good, sound, common 
sense. All, or any one of these elements must either be 
inherent or latent and ready for development — for it is — 
and has been found — absolutely impossible to develop these 
essentials in any one man by a mere process of military 
education or intensive training — Unless a man possesses 
one or more of these necessary requisites or material to 
work on, such education or training is so much wasted effort 
or labor lost. 

It has frequently happened that men, without possessing 
any of these basic elements, not even military sense — or 
instinct, or the military spirit — have undergone a military 
education and severe intensive training to fit them for what 
they have been led to believe through their theoretical in- 



38 On the Trail of Deserters 

struction are the problems of battle which they have got to 
face up to and overcome. Sometimes it has been found 
necessary that this initiatory effort shall be made on a real 
(not a sham) battle-field. The shock — the rude awakening, 
the stress, strain and disillusionment of real battle has then 
come with such a startling surprise to some men not physi- 
cally up to a soldier's standard as to throw them off their feet 
— break them down before it is discovered that lack of 
physical strength alone debars them from the military pro- 
fession, and so destroys their morale and esprit de corps 
as to render them unfit for further field service. The ever 
changing and rapid developments of battle are so great and 
constantly pressing that they call for all there is in any man 
— and in the twinkling of an eye; his cool courage — his 
level-headed judgment — his every ounce of resourcefulness 
— and instant decision is called into such rapid action and 
it is so quickly drawn upon as to afford no opportunity for 
much study, long deliberation, or the privilege of consulting 
with others. During this sudden trying out process — the 
most strenuous that can be applied to any human being 
as a complete test of the would be and so called professional 
soldier — he may develop just this lack of stamina and 
courage — Of what possible use then is the swivel chair sol- 
dier who, without military bent, instinct or spirit — the 
military coup d'oeuil or sense — rushes into battle only to 
find that it is not what has been described to him — that the 
spectacular and moving picture feature of it is all lacking — 
and that he is, in every sense out of place in command of 
battle service soldiers and an entire "misfit." Could any- 
thing be more pitiful or pathetic than to see an over edu- 
cated, over trained soldier of twenty or thirty years' service 
who has never been "tried out" when he first makes this 
discovery? The writer has seen it! These men when 
faced up with responsibility, and an emergency, exigency 
or crisis arises — always "fall down". They are soon led to 
recognize their absolute unfitness for the military profes- 
sion, for a military command or to handle any problem 



On the Traii. of Deserters 39 

growing out of a military position requiring ripe experi- 
ence along the lines of ready judgment, rapid action and 
quick decision. It is generally too late then, however, few 
having the good sense to recognize their failure and leave 
the service in time to avoid the disaster that is sure to over- 
take either themselves or the unfortunate men under their 
command and subject to their blunders and almost crim- 
inal short comings. This disposes of an officer's going into 
battle before he is ripe — or has been given the battle instinct 
and battle sense to try out his theoretical battle knowledge 
in the presence of any enemy on the assumption that the 
book knowledge he has gained has fitted him for such a 
test out. 

Sometimes — all this effort to make a man a soldier who 
does not possess the necessary elements, is attempted 
through the "Plattsburg system" of intensive training with 
the same result— Again it may be tried through numerous 
service schools— the General Staff- the War College 
course, etc. But — eventually and inevitably without some 
one or all of these basic elements to build on — to unfold, 
develop and train whatever of the military spirit that there 
is in him, it will become necessary, sooner or later to elimi- 
nate him from the game— i. e., to "Can" him. The writer 
has scarcely ever seen it fail — And when there has been any 
exception to the rule through political pull or favoritism— 
and this incompetent, would-be professional soldier is re- 
tained, disaster has been written all over the pages of his 
unfortunate military career. All of our wars— the Civil 
War — Spanish-American — and now our great World War 
have clearly demonstrated this. It is pitiful therefore to 
see men struggling along in uniform— absolutely incapable 
of acquiring battle instinct or battle sense (simply because 
they cannot be taught) and the requisites for a rough and 
tumble soldier in the field, capable of commanding men 
under all circumstances of the emergencies and crises con- 
tinually arising to test out a man's military resources— and 
his ready adaptation to the problems before him, etc.— 



40 On the Trail of Deserters 

because of the lack of just those elements that go to make 
up the ever ready soldier. The education of such men along 
military — but, more especially along the linq of battle 
problems is an offense to the nostrils and a clear violation 
of common sense, besides giving most battle-service soldiers 
an indescribable weariness. 

Courage Alone Not Effective 

Courage, either in the Army or civil life, is a cheap com- 
modity. Almost every soldier should and does possess it 
to a certain degree. All combative animals have it more or 
less. It certainly is not a rare virtue in our service. The 
man who does not possess it is an exception to the rule — 
The point is, however, whether he has that amount of phys- 
ical and moral courage to a degree which, without common 
sense and the military spirit — would make his acts a mili- 
tary success. The writer thinks not — Too much stress has 
been laid on the mere physical brute courage of the soldier. 
Without it is combined with good military sense — it is 
doubtful if possessing courage alone could ever make a 
success of anything in which any of the military elements 
cited enter as a factor. Nothing so surprises a man of 
mediocre caliber — one who has been mistakenly or wrong- 
fully steered into a military career without there being the 
slightest evidence of his fitness for it — one who has been 
stuffed full of the theory of war and of battle conditions, 
as to — suddenly butt up against the real article — a genuine 
wild-cat battle with all of its quickly varying conditions and 
phases. And by such a battle I do not mean one afar off; 
at some observation or listening post within sound of the 
guns — or in some bomb proof or sheltered dug out — where 
he can talk over the telephone ; or look upon it as he would 
a moving picture — but directly on, or right in rear of an 
infantry battle-line under direct rifle, shrapnel, canister, or 
machine-gun fire — a bullet-swept field — such as many of us 
Civil War men saw on the battle-field of Fredericksburg, 
Va., Dec. 13-14, 1863. One hundred and fifty yards from 



On the Trail of Deserters 41 

the "Sunken Road"— at the foot of "Maryes Heights". 
With no cover except the shell-mangled, disemboweled 
bodies which we rolled up in front of us and used for 
breast works, behind which we sought the only shelter we 
had for 30 long winter hours in the half frozen mud — ^the 
plane of fire just grazing our heads on that bullet-swept 
terrain — and the bodies being whipped, frazzled and torn to 
pieces in front of our noses by terrific rifle and shrapnel 
fire as we vainly endeavored to relieve our weary frames 
by turning over from right to left or on our backs and 
stomachs. 

That was a battle-field where the soldier not only had to 
use his courage, his wits and common sense, but all of his 
resources. He will doubtless discover in a few minutes that 
this situation and this crisis was not included in what he 
has studied and booked up as theoretical battle knowledge 
and does not apply or fit in to any battle scheme that has 
been — without consulting him — staged on his front — and 
particularly to such a frightful and perilous situation. 
Right here will come in his aptitude and true merit as a 
soldier — and his real practical test out. It applies to any 
other military problem where the element of common 
sense must enter as a determining factor. It enters into all 
walks of business where business sense is so absolutely 
necessary. It entered into this problem of the pursuit of 
deserters. All of our varied campaign and battle service, 
and experience and knowledge gained during that great 
Civil War — and our practical activities in scouting and 
campaigning after wild, hostile Indians subsequent to that 
war entered into this chase and capture, as Military factors 
^-without which we would have been as helpless as two 
children. 

Who could look ahead into that long, trackless, desolate 
hundred miles of thinly settled country— almost a wilder- 
ness — with small towns more than 40 miles apart — in the 
midst of a bitter cold tempest of rain, snow, sleet and ice — 
and rely upon any Service School scheme of study, or War 



42 On the Trail of Deserters 

College papers and compositions upon obsolete campaigns 
and battles — or any extended use of war games — annual 
maneuvers or sham batltes, etc., things that many of our 
young officers have been fed upon for years to fit them for 
great wars, emergencies, crises, etc. — and predicted any 
success for either Lawton or the writer? Any experience 
(?) gained in such theoretical military knowledge as would 
fit into such a case — would have been about as effective 
for Lawton and myself as our study of the Sanskrit and 
Chinese languages. 

It was a problem based purely upon military experience 
gained by hard knocks and campaigns and in battles — 
seasoned up with plenty of good, sound horse sense — com- 
bined with our battle discipline and morale; courage, re- 
sourcefulness and powers of endurance entered, of course, 
as factors. These were our guides. One's complete educa- 
tion, and years of the most violent intensive training ever 
devised by any military machine of West Point Manufac- 
ture would have accomplished absolutely nothing along the 
lines we worked to secure the unqualified success — that was 
expected and demanded of us by such an exacting soldier as 
Mackenzie. There was nothing the writer had so labo- 
riously studied and learned in his course at West Point 
that could by any construction or stretch of the imagina- 
tion, have fitted in, or been of the slightest use in this 
problem. No Mathematics — No Algebra with its "Bi- 
nomial Theorem ;" no plane Geometry with its fascinating 
"Pons Asinorum" ; No Trigonometry with its sines and 
co-sines ; no Descriptive or Analytical Geometry with planes 
of reference, etc. No Calculus with its integrations and 
differentiations; or equations "A" and "B". No Spherical 
Astronomy with its "Polaris" — or projections of the 
Eclipse; No Optics or Acoustics. No spectral Analysis. 
No trays of Minerals — with the blow pipe and testing acids 
to determine "Fools Gold" or Iron Pyrites from the real 
article, would have fitted one for the real acid test when the 
most critical stage of the game — confronted him. Neither 



On the Trail of Deserters 43 



would the perfect tactical drills — magnificent parades and 
inspections which have so delighted foreign visitors and 
the American people who have a right to be so proud — as the 
writer is himself — of our great National Military Academy 
— probably the finest Academy in the world — But — and 
here comes the crux of one's best endeavors along military 
lines where complete success is the goal — the education the 
writer gained during that Civil War — the daily experience 
— the frequent campaign and battle tests — the self control — 
the patience — the confidence — the discipline and morale, 
tried out as in a crucible — the strength, steadiness and ten- 
acity of purpose under battle conditions — with rifle, 
shrapnel and canister fire — for there were no machine guns 
or grenades in those days — in such battles as Bull Run — 
Antietam, Fredericksburg — Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, 
etc., and the influences which they wrought upon one's 
character in later years to deal with things that to some 
men would appear to be simply impossible — all these com- 
bined with the true military spirit — and good, common 
sense were the determining factors in that strange adven- 
ture so far as they are able to guide us in this mysterious 
and complex game of life — or can enter into the human 
problems in which we engage and are ever attempting to 
solve to our satisfaction and credit. Such was the philos- 
ophy and logical reasoning of we two "hold overs" of the 
Civil War, as we plodded our weary way across the black 
prairies — in the howling "Norther" — in our pursuit of these 
deserters. Little or no thought was given to the training 
received at the Military Academy beyond a well nourished 
pride in its motto of "Honor — Duty — Country" — the bal- 
ance was in our pride as battle-service soldiers of the Civil 
War — and all of our knowledge and experience gained 
thereby — but especially so far as the writer was concerned 
to a short period of service at a huge conscript and "substi- 
tute" camp* 

* Note — Men who had been paid large bounties during the draft 
period to take the place of men who were long on money, but were 
short on gall — and who had no stomach for a fight of any kind. 



44 On the Trail of Deserters 

where he acted as a provost guard — and as a young 
detective among many deserters from every Army and 
Navy in the world — hardened and desperate criminals of 
the worst description — intent on receiving a large bounty 
only to desert at the first opportunity and enlisting at an- 
other rendezvous — repeating this trick ad libitum. Here 
was real human character depicted in its worst forms of 
iniquity — depravity — greed — selfishness — low cunning — 
trickery, treachery — atrocity — and the most desperate 
crimes — not stopping short of black-jacking — garroting — 
sand-bagging — robbery and frequent murders. To mingle 
with them was to know their types — their methods — 
habits, resources, etc. All this knowledge was of incal- 
culable value to the writer when the plunge was made into 
darkness and the depths of an uncertainty — of an adventure 
the outcome of which could be but problematical or only 
to be guessed at. 

All this applied to Lawton, who, although he was not a 
graduate of West Point, had had the same campaign and 
battle experience as the writer — and as Lieut. Colonel 
Commanding the 30th Indian Volunteer Infantry had de- 
veloped in him all of the necessary elements at Chicka- 
mauga — Missionary Ridge — Dalton — Resaca — Kenesaw 
Mountain and in his march with Sherman "from Atlanta 
to the sea" — which, as essential factors would fit into our 
problem — and which, many years later, he fully exemplified 
in the Philippines by his push, energy, iron will, resource- 
fulness, well-balanced judgment and quick, decisive action 
which strongly marked every movement in his campaigns, 
and characterized him as the personification of an ever 
ready and perfectly trained — although not intensively 
trained — soldier — the magnificent soldier without frills, 
furbelows, fuss or feathers — that he was — 



On the Trail of Deserters 45 



Training of the "Rough Riders" 

Too much stress has been given to a long, intensive train- 
ing as absolutely necessary to fit men to become good, re- 
liable battle-service soldiers, or to enable them to tackle 
either purely military problems, or such problems as con- 
fronted us in our long, exhaustive pursuit of those de- 
serters. Perfection of drill and military training is one 
thing through a continuous and harassing barrack or field 
training. To fit men to become alert, resourceful, obedient 
soldiers for quick and ready service through discipline and 
a minimum of tactical drill is altogether another thing 
when a war is fully on. Theodore Roosevelt in his Auto- 
biography (p. 250) says: "The reason why it takes so 
long to turn the average citizen, etc., into a good infantry- 
man or cavalryman is because it takes a long while to teach 
the average untrained man how to shoot, to march, to take 
care of himself in the open, to be alert, resourceful, cool, 
daring and resolute, and to fit himself to act on his own 
responsibility (individual initiative). If he already pos- 
sesses these qualities there is very little difficulty in making 
him a good soldier (nor should it take a long time). All 
the drill necessary to enable him to march and to fight is 
of a simple character. Parade ground and barrack square 
maneuvers are of no earthly consequence in real war. 
When men can readily change from line to column, and 
column to line, can form front in any direction, and as- 
semble and scatter (deploy), and can do other things with 
speed and precision they have got a fairly good grasp on 
the essentials." 

No amount of long drawn out drill will give him battle 
instinct or battle sense; not until he goes in under fire and 
faces up to what he sooner or later has got to encounter, — 
drill or no drill — does he acquire it. 

Leaving out the non-essentials and endless repetitions of 
drill during a war crisis (and by the non-essentials the 
writer means a cut and dried program from 5.00 A. M. to 



46 On the Trail, of Deserters 

10 P. M., with "manual of arms by the count" — all dress 
parades, reviews and other ceremonies, marching or 
"hiking" with a full infantry pack in a temperature of 109° 
in the shade, to see how men can intensively endure such 
heat, or, in other words, a persistent effort to break these 
men down and determine whether they have any courage, 
endurance or guts) — it should take less than three months 
to make an alert, steadfast, reliable and efficient battle 
soldier in time of war, and not more than six months in 
time of peace if more perfection is arrived at, unless it is 
desired to specialize in artillery, engineering and the Scien- 
tific Corps. Much less time was taken during the Civil 
War. Most of these intensive training sharps and cranks 
harp incessantly about the absolute necessity for a long 
period of "discipline". The writer is nearly a crank on that 
subject, for discipline is the real, true and vital basis on 
which to build for a battle soldier. Then employ most of 
the few weeks, taken as a limit for training, in discipline 
alone — making that the one objective upon which to con- 
centrate the intensive effort, devoting the balance of the 
time to sufficient tactical drill to readily handle them under 
fire, and no more, or until the first deployment and the 
shrapnel or machine gun fire of battle demonstrates the 
fact that any and all tactical formations whether perfect 
or more loosely co-ordinated are soon broken up. Any 
more tactical drill than is sufficient for such a purpose in 
time of war — when all preparation must necessarily be 
hastened — is simply a mere repetition looking to more 
perfect formations and movements and therefore a sheer 
waste of time and effort. 

Both Theodore Roosevelt and General Leonard Wood 
were then right in their grasp of the situation and sum- 
ming up of five weeks of training and battle activities of 
the "Rough Riders". Neither had had any military train- 
ing, either theoretical or practical — one having been a col- 
lege student, writer, ranchman, police commissioner, Secre- 
tary of the Navy, etc., while the other had been a medical 



On the Trail op Deserters 47 

officer. Both, however, had been out in the open under the 
stars, were alert, self-rehant, versatile, many-sided, broad- 
guaged, tense, strenuous, level-headed, far-sighted, saga- 
cious, but withal, endowed with a large stock of good judg- 
ment and plenty of good, sound horse sense. Neither had 
drilled a troop of cavalry — much less a regiment — but they 
had had some good regular officers and old non-commis- 
sioned officers assigned to start them oflf, and furthermore, 
in the face of a war, then on, and quick preparation for 
immediate battle service absolutely necessary, both saw at 
a glance what every good soldier — whether theoretical or 
otherwise — should see, that there was no time to waste in 
the mere niceties of a perfect tactical drill; that all of the 
non-essentials would have to be cut out — and the one essen- 
tial, which they kept steadily in view, in dealing with and 
licking into shape such a body of men as the "Rough 
Riders" were, and which they were so suddenly called 
upon to organize and put into battle — was discipline, more 
discipline, and then some; to control the unruly elements, 
eliminate the really vicious, and administer the severest 
punishment, tempered with justice and mercy, for any and 
every infraction of the disciplinary laws governing any 
large bodies of men trying to adjust themselves to the 
novelty of control by superior authority appointed by the 
Government to hold them in check, and to give them just 
sufficient tactical drill to get them into and out of a battle 
mess, in a fairly orderly fashion. The "Rough Riders" 
had been gathered from the "four corners of the earth." 
What good could six months or a year, or even longer, of 
hard drill or long drawn out intensive training have done 
these men with war already on? They would soon have 
"bucked" — grown disgusted — gone stale — lost their spirit 
and enthusiasm — their morale and force, and given their 
officers no end of trouble by their restlessness and eager- 
ness to try out their mettle and "get in". They needed 
plenty of hard discipline and proper guidance daily, and 
Theodore Roosevelt says they got it. They already pos- 



48 On the Trail of Deserters 

sessed most of the other quaHfications which he so clearly 
enumerates. They needed to be taught prompt obedience 
to lawful authority, and they soon found that out and who 
were their leaders. What more did they need to fit them 
for battle than what he so concisely states in the way of 
tactical drill, to enable them to get on and off a battle- 
field, and the courage-born stimulus of good competent 
officers and non-commissioned officers? Most of them 
already knew the use of arms, and nobody ever stands up 
on a battle line and exercises in the manual of arms, either 
"by the count" or "at will". There was no time to put 
them into large cantonments with other troops and inten- 
sively train them according to a War College prescribed 
schedule. Everything had to be sacrificed to time. 

The late Col. Arthur Wagner, U. S. Army, is reported 
to have said shortly after the Spanish-American war, when 
asked what his experience had been at Santiago — "There 
was nothing I saw there that fitted into my text books in 
any way," 

No cut and dried plans such as might be worked out 
in a Staff War College to fit into every program could be 
used, unless, perchance, the conditions which we were con- 
stantly meeting fitted into such plans — which they seldom 
do — and we could not afford to fall back on any "per- 
chances", necessitating, as they would, the rapid changing 
of such plans, in the face of a situation or crisis which 
might and did demand immediate and decisive action. 

The query then naturally arises — of what vital or prac- 
tical use is much of these enforced student theoretical 
courses at Leavenworth and the Staff War College, espe- 
cially in feeding up officers — who have no special aptitude 
for the profession — on sham battles and sham war maneu- 
vers, if, after stacking up hundreds of these worked out 
war problems, such as four or five different plans for the 
invasion of Mexico, and the same number for the invasion 
of Canada, it shall be found that just at that particular 
time the conditions bear no relation whatever to, or fit into 



On the Trail of Deserters 49 

these carefully worked out and elaborate plans, all of which 
may, and probably will have to be hurriedly changed, when 
there is little or no time to do so, just as the crisis of a 
sudden campaign is forced upon us or is quickly culminat- 
ing. Any commanding officer of our army who cannot 
then quickly change that cut and dried plan thrust into 
his hands by the War Department, and in the face of sud- 
den and almost insurmountable obstacles, and all of these 
conditions entirely foreign to such plans, to work out in 
front of an enemy already mobilized for battle — why — his 
name is— MUD!! 

In all measures of this kind we felt compelled to take 
relating to these deserters, the exigencies we had to face at 
any moment and the plan we hastily made to fit into them, 
proved to be the deciding factor. Such a thing as pur- 
suing those deserters under any cut and dried programme 
would have been not only ridiculous, but a blithering farce. 
That is why, with a man of Mackenzie's horse sense, we 
were left to perfect freedom of action, and our own inde- 
pendence or individual initiative. Thereore, while it may 
seem almost treason for a graduate of West Point to de- 
clare it, nothing that the writer had ever learned there was 
of the slightest value to him in trailing these men. It was 
a problem absolutely separate from the ordinary military 
processes, and governed entirely by other factors than 
those to which an education at the Military Academy had 
any relation. 

Intensive Training as a Fine Art (?) 

The writer's son, a Major of Infantry (a temporary 
Lieut-Colonel), took over to France a training battalion 
of the Sixteenth U. S. Infantry from Syracuse, N. Y., in 
November, 1917. He was trained in the Toul Sector by a 
Major Rasmussen of the Canadian Infantry (later killed 
by an H. E. shell). He says that a few weeks of practical 
trench training and hand grenade work, etc., was of more 
value to him than months of such training as he had had 
in the Syracuse Camp. 



50 On the Trail of Deserters 

The writer had a son-in-law who had had fifteen years' 
experience in the field as a Civil Engineer with the largest 
company in St. Louis — surveying, platting, laying out sub- 
urban tracts, including road building, sewer and culvert con- 
struction, etc. He lacked the elements of military en- 
gineering, pontoon bridge building, military trenches, with 
barbed wire placing, hand grenade work, etc. He entered the 
Fort Riley Training Camp in May, 1917, was transferred to 
Leavenworth, thence to Camp Meade, Washington Bar- 
racks, Laurel, Md., and then to Camp Lee, Va., where he 
was employed digging trenches for the third or fourth time, 
and building pontoon land bridges, when he had made a 
record throwing bridges again and again with his company 
across the Eastern Branch of the Potomac river. His 
skin was almost trained off his body. He lost his spirit and 
enthusiasm, became absolutely disgusted, but finally, 
through a "pulf at Headquarters, A. E. F., he got "over" 
in March, 1918. Was immediately assigned as a Captain 
of the 101st Pioneer Regiment, 26th N. E. ("Yankee") 
Division, and after some more sector training was in the 
Chateau Thierry and St. Mihiel drives and "made good" 
under Colonel George Bunnel (a graduate of West Point, 
who was a practical soldier,) as a pioneer engineer on the 
battle line, opening the roads for the Infantry and Artillery, 
cutting barbed wire, etc. No more army for him! But for 
my earnest protest and advice he would have resigned in 
disgust several times. 

When the word goes forth from our intensive trainers 
and sham battle heroes that it takes nearly a year to make 
of such a man an efficient engineer in the field, when for 
practical road building, rough pioneer work under fire, and 
all round resourcefulness he could give many of our West 
Point graduates "cards and spades", most of such en- 
forced training, which the writer has knowledge of, is a 
disgrace, and the would-be trainers should be "canned" 
before they reach a battle line. 

The writer was credibly informed that some of the so 



On the Trail of Deserters 51 

called intensive training took this form. A lot of con- 
demned rifle cartridges from one of the arsenals was sent 
to Camp Meade, Maryland, and, on the score of economy, 
it is presumed, they were issued for target practice on the 
range. Some of the officers knew of the danger in their 
use and protested — as it was "slow fire" ammunition — But 
they were directed to instruct their men to "hold on" to the 
target so many seconds (20 more or less) to compensate 
for the time lost. Several men were badly injured 
(burned) by the "back fire" upon throwing the bolt. The 
ammunition was still used under protest — Fine training 
for sharpshooters. Any battle soldier knows that these 
officers would have been fully justified in refusing to obey 
such orders — when it had become known what risks were 
involved — even life itself. These cartridges were not only 
absolutely useless for such training — but it was little less 
than a crime for any officer to compel his subordinates to 
expend such dangerous ammunition. It was reported that 
the men seized the balance and either buried or otherwise 
destroyed it. What a travesty on preparing men for battle ! 
If such intensive training was employed in these Canton- 
ments to fit men for fighting, with a war already on, what 
could be expected of the Instructors, employed in that kind 
of work, who had got to taste the joy of battle? This mat- 
ter was not made public, but was either concealed, cam- 
ouflaged or treated so lightly as to suggest a case of "white- 
wash." Men were sent on "hikes" over hard, frozen roads, 
covered with snow and ice — in old, worn out shoes — their 
feet nearly bare ; all under protest from their new, untried 
officers — who naturally wondered at such training and the 
necessity for it, — also the risk in the face of an epidemic 
of "flu"— 

The True Test-Out — Acquiring the Fighting Sense 

The writer, the youngest of four brothers, was mustered 
into the volunteer service, Aug. 5, 1862, at the age of 16 
years, having been rejected the year before on account of 



52 On the Trail of Deserters 

age and an over supply of men. His regiment, the Twenty- 
second Mass. Vol. Infantry (Henry Wilson Regiment), was 
a fighting regiment from Boston and vicinity. Only 45 
Union Infantry regiments lost 200 and upwards in killed 
and died of wounds on the field during the Civil War. The 
Twenty-second lost 316 and stands 27 in that list. In a 
list of all Union Infantry regiments that lost over 10 per 
cent in killed on the field, it stands number 13 — with a per- 
centage of 15.5 per cent — and, based upon a maximum per- 
centage of enrollment (1393 men), it stands number 16 — 
("Fox's Regimental Losses") — Its service was in the First 
Brigade — First Division — Fifth Corps, Army of the Poto- 
mac. We recruits arrived on Arlington Heights to join this 
fighting regiment, en route (whereabouts not located) from 
the "seven days' battles" on the Peninsula. The officer in 
charge of us had given us no drills — no training of any 
kind. He was returning from leave, and spent most of his 
time rusticating around the "Old Willard". We joined the 
regiment at Halls Hill, Va. (near Falls Church), bivouacked 
in a battle line as it was marching into the defences of 
W — from the second battle of Bull Run. The noise of 
battle was on; a spluttering picket firing was in evidence a 
few hundred yards from us. During our stay here of two 
days — a first class drill sergeant gave us an hour each day 
in the "facings" and the use of our guns, which had been 
issued to us at midnight of Aug. 29 — in a terrific thunder 
storm, during which we were soaked — and in a bivouac 
without shelter. This consisted of instructions in taking 
them apart, cleaning, assembling, rapid loading and sight- 
ing. We remained in reserve in the fortifications of Wash- 
ington, marching hither and thither until Sept. 12 — when 
we started, in a temperature of 98°, after a drenching 
night's storm, on the Antietam Campaign — There was no 
time for further training. We were put on the battle line — 
sandwiched between our Peninsula veterans of seven bat- 
tles. The lines were so close that our range was practically 
point blank. There was no adjustment of sights — no wind 



On the; Traii. of Deserters 53 

guages — none of the usual methods for work on a target 
range. It made Httle difference whether the trajectory was 
flat or otherwise. Any boy who had ever used a shot gun 
could load and blaze away into the close lines. The line 
officers and file closers were veterans. The battle discipline 
was flawless — We touched elbows with men who had ac- 
quired the battle sense and instinct in the hell of rifle fire — 
shell — shrapnel and close up canister guns of the 12 pdr 
Napoleon type. A few days after a bloody reconnoissance 
across the river, in which one of our regiments lost 289 
men killed, wounded and missing in 20 minutes, we had a 
few days' drill — and that was all we ever got. We were as 
good soldiers as ever marched the roads or ever went in 
under our battle flags — at Fredericksburg — Chancellorsville, 
Gettysburg — and on to the Seige of Petersburg. We 
needed no long, drawn-out intensive training — ^because 
there was no time to give it to us — Our superb officers all 
recognized that — and, as soon as we had got our balance, 
and recovered from the battle shock — we fitted into the 
bloody game of war without any waste of time, effort or 
lost motion. Our manual of arms would not have under- 
gone the critical scrutiny of a "yearling Corporal" at West 
Point — or a "color man" "throwing up" for colors at guard 
mount — nor would our crude attempts have excited much 
pride in the tactical officers at a perfect West Point dress 
parade. Our shooting in the open at from 150 to 500 
yards might also have aroused the merry laugh of a target 
range sharpshooter with all of his implements for making 
a record score. But we were not striving for a record 
score — just shooting into massed formations and closed up 
battle 4ines to kill — and we got there just the same with the 
official record as cited. That record tells the story — At 
midnight on May 8, 1864, near Spottsylvania C. H., in a 
hand to hand fight with the Sixth Alabama, the regiment 
captured their colors and more prisoners than were in the 
ranks of the Twenty-second Massachusetts. Two of these 
brothers, on account of their youth, refused commissions, 



54 On the Trail of Deserters 

although their father, who had spent two years at the Mil. 
Academy in the class of 1836, was then Chairman of the 
Mil. Com. of the Mass. Senate; was in daily conference 
with John A. Andrew, the great war Governor — and could, 
by a "pull" have easily secured them. One was "specially 
commended" for good conduct at the Battle of Fredericks- 
burg, Va., while the other untrained brother, (Walter 
Carter) as Sergeant Major of the regiment, was specially 
mentioned in the report of the Commanding officer of the 
regiment for "coolness under fire, and personal bravery in 
all battles of the campaign" ; (Reb. Rec — Ser — I — 40 : 459) 
this Campaign, May 4 to June 18 — 1864 — from the Wilder- 
ness—Laurel Hill— Spottsylvania C. H. (May 8-22— 
under fire day and night), Jericho Mills — North Anna, 
Totopotomoy Creek, Bethesda Church — Cold Harbor — 
Jerusalem Plank Road (Norfolk and Petersburg R R — 
later, the spot where the Battle of the "Crater'' was fought). 
If there was ever any better soldier than this untrained but 
not world-advertised Sergeant-Major of one of the best 
fighting regiments in the Army of the Potomac — the writer, 
in nearly 60 years since those old days, has not met him. 
On May 10, 1864, while acting as liaison officer for the 
Major — commanding the left wing of the regiment, which 
was cut of¥ from the right wing and in a cul de sac swept 
by a frightful cross fire — he was directed to cross the 
Brock Road (about a mile or more from Spottsylvania 
C. H.) and communicate to the Colonel the perilous posi- 
tion of the left wing. He crossed this sunken road — swept 
by rifle and canister fire, at close range. His blanket roll 
was cut in several places ; his eye was burned and closed by 
a hot bullet — for several days — The next morning he took 
in on his back, from a rifle pit to save his life, a wounded 
comrade and friend under fire. Being a non-commissioned 
officer, he received no brevets — no medal of honor — no 
Legion of Honor, or Croix de Guerre — etc. So much for 
this battle-trained, but not intensively trained — volunteer 
Sergeant-Major of an Infantry fighting regiment in the old 



On the Trail of Deserters 55 

battle swept Army of our youth. And he wears nothing to 
indicate his record of valor — not even the "Little Bronze 
Button" of the G. A. R. ; nothing more than the satisfac- 
tion or consciousness of having done well his part in help- 
ing to preserve the Union and making it possible for the 
present generation of soldiers to have a country in which to 
exist, and looking on with a certain degree of smug com- 
placency at the smiling assurance with which these present 
day trainers of men declare that it takes from six months 
to a year, or even more, to fit the average American boy to 
be an effective battle-service soldier — So much for this so 
called "Intensive Training" as a fine art. 

The writer trained for three boat races at West Point 
in the '60s, rowing as "stroke" in one. He was urged to 
take up "intensive training" in the gymnasium. He did 
nothing of the kind, but simply used the dumb bells and 
Indian Clubs in his room to limber up and harden the 
muscles, and after a morning plunge, took a brisk walk 
and run of about two miles every morningi for wind. 
There was no "training table", and he simply took care 
not to take on any extra flesh when eating the "hash" and 
"Slumgullion" of our plainest of plain Mess Hall fare. 
We consulted the famous Ward brothers of Comwall-on- 
Hudson— "Hank", "Josh" and "Ellis" (who has been a 
famous Coach for years) as to our style and effectiveness 
of stroke. They were simple Hudson river shad fishermen 
— long, lean, lank and spare as greyhounds, sinewy as whip 
cord — and as hard as steel nails — Every muscle was taut 
and tense as a racing oarsman's should be. I doubt if they 
ever saw the inside of a gymnasium — and laughed to scorn 
the idea that they had got to train in one. Rowing all day, 
for months, had, without developing their muscles into 
Sandow monstrosities — hardened them like steel — and they 
were, after pulling a long, swinging stroke, with quick re- 
cover, ready at all times to row for their lives. I do not 
recall of their ever being defeated — either abroad or in our 
own waters. They were our trainers. They were the 



56 On the Trail of Deserters 



finest oarsmen America ever produced. The writer saw 
them row the Harvard "Varsity" crew on the Charles 
River, and after passing them as though they were almost 
standing still, play with them and "loaf home". William 
Blaikie, Harvard's famous stroke, and later their profes- 
sional "Coach," wrote after graduation, a book, "How to 
Get Strong". He advocated the gymnasium — the fatal 
trainer's paradise that has killed so many men. He died, 
when he had just passed his 50th year, of dilation of the 
heart superinduced by intensive training. He believed in 
enormous muscles and brute strength, rather than skill, en- 
durance, and good form. He had overtrained and had an 
overworked heart. The writer was pitted against a man 
who was almost a duplicate of Sandow. He could have 
pitched me over his head. He could, with a twist of his 
immense, arms, break a spruce oar in a racing shell. When 
the last few boat lengths of the long three miles loomed 
up — and victory for him was almost in sight — his sand 
gave out — his heart was almost broken and he lay down 
and threw up the sponge in defeat. He was "pumped 
out" ; he had overtrained and "gone stale". He pulled "too 
much beef", and lacked the courage — sand — nerve and guts 
that wins at the most critical moment. He weighed 180 
pounds. He could have been better utilized as a battering 
ram on a foot ball team to fall down upon some smaller 
player and break his back or neck. Our stroke weighed 140 
pounds. Some men may train for a prize fight until they 
can run 15 miles without breathing hard, and then, inside 
of three or four minutes after entering the ring begin 
wheezing like an old wind-broken horse. This is due to a 
nervous contraction of the pulmonary region, caused gen- 
erally by nervous fright. They are too tense and rigid to 
fight effectively. The writer has seen the same thing in 
battle with over trained men — perfectly tense, dazed — 
almost speechless — from fright and nerve shock alone be- 
fore they could get it under control. This does not imply 
that they were cowards — A man's supreme or best mental 



On the Trail of Deserters 57 

and physical efforts does not depend upon his size, his huge 
muscles abnormally developed by a long period of intensive 
training, or through his intellectuality acquired by years of 
school, college and university education, but, largely through 
the spirit, force, courage, discipline and morale which are 
behind his purpose — that purpose which must furnish the 
mainspring of his action. 

This refers particularly to the soldier in his intelligent 
(and by this the writer does not mean the intellectual) 
application of that power and those resources to the actual 
conditions of the problem with which he is hourly, even 
momentarily, confronted when on a battle line under the 
hell of fire. This he has got to face, not as a highly organ- 
ized or perfectly educated human being, trained, or over 
trained to the last limit for a specific purpose, but, on his 
individual initiative, and his combative instincts or fighting 
senses — without which no highly educated or purely intel- 
lectual human machine could long withstand the strain, for, 
imtil a man goes in under fire he cannot know, or even guess 
at his power and resources — his balance and morale which 
iron discipline combined with moderate, common sense 
training alone has inspired. 

Many a soldier has gone into battle, and proved his 
bravery and battle efficiency under fire, without being a 
highly intellectual or even an educated man, and with no 
previous training that approaches any where near perfec- 
tion, or that was given in these Cantonments, or, with any 
other feeling or inspiration than the patriotic motive which 
has led him to fight for a great principle, or the incentive 
in the performance of a duty in strict obedience to the 
orders of his superior officers who, if they are true, and loyal 
leaders, with the right stuff in them, will supply all the 
deficiencies that any long drawn-out intensive training so 
often fails in. 

It is now that his real intensive training has begun with- 
out his spirit and enthusiasm having become impaired, and 
he is better able to fully grasp its meaning than he would 



58 On the Traii. of Deserters 

had it been daily, weekly and monthly crammed down his 
throat by rule, and by some theoretical trainer who had 
never seen a battle field — never been on one — or under fire, 
and who would scarcely know one if he should see it. 

Our intensive training in most of these cantonments was 
begun backwards. Teaching men to shoot — and to shoot 
straight, preferably under conditions of noise, after a few 
days — closely simulating a real battleracket — is much more 
effectual as a starter — after he has been taught to knock 
down, clean, assemble and quickly load his rifle — and the 
proper use of it, than a manual of arms "by the count" (as 
the writer saw it) or any attempt at a perfect knowledge 
of the intricacies of the School of the Company, etc. 

A man, unless he has been designated as a sharpshooter, 
or for "sniping" — or, has been ordered to remain under 
permanent or semi-permanent trench cover — is not satisfied 
to fight at from 1000 to 1200 yards — the range of a high 
power rifle, — for, under most atmospheric conditions and 
when in the smoke and confusion of battle, he cannot pick 
up his target, or see the object aimed at, or determine 
whether his fire is effective, therefore he is going to push 
forward to from joo to ^oo yards — the range of our old 
muzzle loading Springfield rifles. There, in the open he 
can see the enemy he is fighting — almost the whites of his 
eyes — and how effective his fire should be. There is the 
place to fight — and that was where our Amercian lads 
after the Hindenberg lines were destroyed — or turned — 
and the Huns were driven out into open ground — in their 
forward rushes — were so effective in cleaning and mopping 
up the best troops Germany had. They could not resist 
close fighting. They had not been trained that way, and 
we ought not to dream even of training our men in long 
range — trench cover fighting — except under certain condi- 
tions which are clearly indicated. Circumstances will gov- 
ern those conditions. 



On the; Trail of Deserters 59 



A Brief Summary— A Record "Round-Up" 

While this was not the concluding chapter, or the end of 
my dealings, either by way of experience or adventure with 
these deserters, or all that was likely to grow out of it, I felt 
that much of the burden had been lifted. The long chase 
in the howling "Norther". The novelty of our night at 
"Rhodes Ranch" — with seven people, including the crying 
baby, and the three dogs in a one room "shack" to keep us 
from perishing; sliding and skating over the desolate soli- 
tude, wind-swept and ice crusted; the two long, weary 
nights among the dens, dives and slums of Weatherford and 
Cleburne with my optimistic, jovial, joking — Musketeer 
Corporal; the all night study of the map — the one-legged, 
"Johnny driver with his friendly Gettysburg battle-field 
reminiscing that came so near losing me the fruits of a 
night's hard labor — and uncertainty of plans in the early 
morning at the latter town ; — the exciting, thrilling — almost 
spectacular capture of the men in the brush near Hillsboro; 
the bluff and threat of the wagon master; the novelty of a 
Texas log jail with its forbidding exterior and interior, but 
sheltering walls; the little, panic-stricken wagoner; the in- 
dictment of all the citizens implicated in their escape and 
temporary release under the stimulus of "blood money"; 
the "squealing" of Crafts on the concealment of the arms; 
the identification of the raw recruits; — the encounter with 
the fighting termagants at Hardin's Ranch; the hasty re- 
turn of the carbines by the "old man" who would "lick 
you uns outen yer boots" ; the commendations and warm 
personal thanks of Generals Mackenzie and Hardie; the 
letter of thanks and congratulations from the Major-Gen- 
eral Commanding the Department of Texas; all were now 
over, and I could at last, heave a great sigh of relief — and 
for a few days, at least, indulge in a brief period of well 
earned rest. 

It is believed that this march of over 200 miles in the 
dead of winter, during an unprecedented severe "Norther" 



A 



60 On the Trail op Deserters 

(10° below zero) with sleet, snow, hail and ice almost 
thick enough to bear the weight of our horses, and for a 
part of the time in jeopardy of our lives — the capture of 
these ten (10) men with all of their arms and safe delivery 
into a military post, and the apprehension and indictment of 
the three (3) civilians for their share in the adventure — 
stands on record as the most complete and wide-sweeping 
"round up" of deserters, under all of the circumstances, 
ever known in the official Military Annals of the Depart- 
ment of Texas, if not in the entire United States Army — At 
all events, in any way it may be summed up, it was a most 
remarkable and "Phenomenal Capture". 



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"^^■J^ N. MANCHESTER, 
^•■■'' INDIANA 













